Not Quite a Southern Belle
by LostInInk
Summary: Lizzie Monarch is the new girl in town. So is Bella Swan. What happens when they stumble upon two guys they can't resist? A rewritten version  of Twilight with a love interest for Jasper.
1. Monsters

**A/N Okay so here are the basic parameters for this story. 1) Alice and Jasper aren't married, they are incredibly good friends. 2) This is basically **_**Twilight**_** through **_**Breaking Dawn**_** (if I get that far) rewritten with a love interest for Jasper. 3) I don't own **_**The Twilight Saga**_** it belongs to Stephenie Meyer. 4) Reviews are appreciated. **

"Here's our new house," my dad says as we reach the end of an incredibly long driveway. "Isn't it something?"

I peer out the car window at the huge mansion and wonder how my dad afforded it. It is gorgeous of course. Two stories constructed entirely of red brick with Victorian details and gray roof. There is a wraparound porch, and some of the rooms on the top floor have balconies. It feels like I'm in an old Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte book. I would have picked something more modern, but I'm not in charge.

"It's amazing!" my mother exclaims and then begins to prattle on about how lucky we are my father got his promotion. I grimace at my older brother Jace in the opposite passenger seat, and he gazes back with the same expression. Lucky isn't the word we would have chosen. We had everything we wanted when we lived in Michigan, friends, a quaint little house in the country, family. It seemed like a cruel joke when our father told us we were moving to rainy Washington, especially with Jace being a senior in high school. Our only consolation was that he had not moved into Seattle where my father would be working, but rather a small town called Forks.

The one word I would have used to describe Forks after my first time in town was green. Extremely green. We lived in the woods in Michigan, but even they weren't this green. Moss covered everything, and don't believe there is such a thing as a tree that is not green. If I had to pick another word it would be overcast. The clouds were so thick it I wasn't even sure the sun ever got through them. This was fine with me; I loved stormy darker weather without the sun. However, my mother and brothers weren't going to be pleased.

"Mark," I gently shake my sleeping nine-year old brother's shoulder. "Mark sweetie, get up we're here."

Mark groans softly and rubs his eyes. He is short for his age, and has the height of a six or seven-year old. He's still got a lot of baby fat, and golden brown hair that sticks up in tufts all over the place. He really is quite adorable, though he prefers I don't say so

"Don't call me sweetie," he mutters softly in his little boy voice as he stretches and yawns.

"Yeah, jeez Lizzie," Jace chastises my word choice, though I can tell he's holding back laughter, "Mark's not a little kid anymore he's nine years old for crying out loud."

"Exactly!" Mark states, and Jace and I try to cover our guffaws as we get out of the car. Our father and mother are already on the porch, my father fingering through his key ring for the key that opens the double doors.

"Where is that? I swear I had it…" he mutters to himself, while my mother smiles obliviously. Looks like we now have two mental nut cases in our new residence.

I turn my attention to my older brother, who currently looks like a model for some really big, really expensive clothing. I'm not lying when I say Jace is gorgeous, when he smiles any girls in a twenty foot radius fall over dead from shock. He has thick, jet black hair and my mother's stunning hazel eyes. His height is also impressive, at six feet he towers over everyone else in the family. If that wasn't enough he's a bit of a fitness geek, so he's well-muscled to boot.

In comparison, I'd say I'm average. I have golden brown hair and chocolate eyes, both of which match my father's. My hair is cut into an angled bob that just touches my chin. And height and figure? Forget about it. At 5'7" I'm the shortest full grown person in the family. My figure isn't that bad, I have muscle because of soccer, but nothing amazing or supermodel looking like Jace.

"Ah, here it is," my dad finally locates the key and places it in the door. It clicks as he turns it. "Welcome home."

The white doors swing open to reveal a large open space with two stairwells, one on the left and one to the right, leading to the second floor. The second floor over hangs the first very slightly like a balcony, and then splits off into two hallways. The first floor itself is very beautiful. As I said there is a large main entry area with beautiful wooden floor. It branches off into three different rooms. I'm eager to explore, but I wait for my father's permission.

"Okay kids feel free to explore. Lizzie and Jace, your rooms are in the left hallway. Lizzie yours is at the end of the hall and Jace the other is yours. You'll know which rooms they are because there are mattresses in them. Hopefully we'll have them completely furnished in a month or two. And you," my dad points to Mark, "will have a room in the right hallway with your mother and me."

"Aww, Dad," Mark pouts. "Why can't I sleep by Lizzie and Jace?"

I roll my eyes. He's never going to acknowledge he's the baby of the family.

"I'll tell you why," I crouch down to his eye level, "because Jace and I have monsters that follow us everywhere. They're always trying to scare us by shrieking and gnashing their teeth and scratching at our necks. This doesn't scare us but what does is that every night they come, and sink their teeth in our necks to drink our blood. If you sleep by us they might do that to you too."

Mark is cringing at this point and I chuckle. God, I wish I was that innocent again.

"So do you get why you can't sleep by us?"

Mark nods over enthusiastically.

"Good, now you can go and explore."

Mark walks away from us, glancing over his shoulder in disbelief that our blood is a midnight snack for monsters.

I do a quick run through of the house. There isn't anything terribly exciting. It's is still mostly empty and lacks any real decorum. I hope my mother isn't going to decorate the house, she lacks good taste. She also lacks sanity, literally. My mother was admitted to a psycho ward when I was twelve. She drove out of the house to a hospital late one night with a sheet over her head. We found out the next morning where she had gone, and that she was delusional. That was fine with me. She'd been mentally abusing me since I was eight. Of course, after she was deemed sane my dad wanted her back. She got a little better, but still, I didn't want anything to do with her.

Finally, I go to my room at the end of the hall. Even though it's empty I love it. It's bigger than my old room back in Michigan, and I note that my father has been paying attention to what I enjoy. The back wall has a large window smack dab in the center that looks out over the forest. In front of the window there is a little ledge to sit on. It is an ideal place for me to write my stories. The mattress sits to my right. A small smile creeps onto my lips. Maybe I can get used to Washington, because this room is perfect.

* * *

><p>"LIZZIE, LIZZIE GET UP IT'S TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL!" Mark is jumping up and down excitedly at the end of my mattress.<p>

"Mmph," I mumble into my pillow. Then I flip over to stare at my little brother. He's bright eyed and bushy tailed. How do little kids enjoy school so much?

"The monsters have your scent now," I tell him. "They'll be coming to your room tonight."

With girlish shriek Mark dashes out of the room.

I lay in my bed, watching the ceiling for several minutes. I don't want to go to this school. I want to go to my old school with my friends.

Finally I get up, change my clothes, and start to head downstairs. I can smell someone cooking, and when I arrive at the kitchen, I find my mother standing next to a waffle maker.

"Morning, Mom."

"Morning, Sweetheart." She leans over to give me a kiss. I artfully dodge out of the way and grab a plate full of waffles.

"Where's Dad?" I ask as I settle myself against the counter a good distance away from her.

"Oh, he's getting dressed. He's going to take you to school today."

Lovely. Now I have to convince him not to drive us to avoid embarrassment. I would get Mom to, but she's one of those lovey dovey types.

"Hey, Liz," Jace waves as he breezes into the kitchen directly to the waffles.

"Morning, Sweetheart," Mom hugs Jace and he allows her to plant a kiss on his cheek. He doesn't like her either, but he does a better job of tolerating her than I do.

"So," he says to me while he establishes himself next to Mom and the waffle maker. "Did you tell Mark the monsters are coming to get him?"

"Yep." I fork some waffles into my mouth.

"Why?"

"He was jumping on the end of my mattress," I reply in between nibbles, "how else was I going to get him to leave?"

"Well, you're to blame if he stays up all night."

"Fine with me." I take another bite of my waffles. I don't want Mark to be scared, but I do want him to stay out of my room

"Then I'll send him to you if he's frightened," Mom asserts. "He's not sleeping in my room."

"Yeah right," I chortle, "With my storytelling abilities? He'll be out of there in ten seconds flat."

"Unless he wets the bed," Jace replies with an evil smile.

"If he does that I'm throwing him outside."

"Throwing who outside?" My father saunters into the room with my little brother hiding in his side.

"Morning, Daddy," a huge smile alights on my lips as I walk over and give him a hug and a kiss. "How are you?"

"Fine. Unless you plan on throwing me outside."

"I only will if you drive Jace and me to school," I jest. "Otherwise I think you're in the clear."

"You don't want me to drive you to school?" He asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not that I don't want you to Daddy," I assure him, "It's just the whole embarrassment factor. Jace and I are old enough where we don't need anyone to transport us anymore."

I proceed back to the counter and snatch my plate of waffles and resume eating. I can tell my father is pondering this. I'm still his baby girl.

"Dad," Jace decides to intervene. "Lizzie and I really aren't little kids anymore, and Lizzie is right about the whole embarrassing thing."

"I guess…" Dad's will starts to cave in under the pleas of two children.

"Excellent." I say. Now maybe I'll stand a chance in Forks High School.

"And don't worry about Lizzie, Dad," Jace adds. He knows our father almost as well as I do. "I won't let my baby sister get hurt."

"Cut it Jace," I commanded, "Or dad will have to worry about you instead."

"Mhm, like you could beat this." Jace flexes his arm muscles.

"Maybe not those. But I am a soccer player so I could _kick_ your ass."

"Lizzie!" my mother and father scold me simultaneously.

"Sorry, sorry," I wave my hands like I'm surrendering. "I'll be good. I promise."

Both of them continue to look at me disapprovingly.

"Hey look, angel," I draw an imaginary halo around my head. "See, I won't cause any trouble."

Their looks don't ease up.

"Hey Jace," I start backing away from my parents and towards the front door, "I think its time to go to school."

"We don't have coats or backpacks," he responds, Jace always likes to be prepared.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," I give him two thumbs up. "But we'll do without them today." Really I would prefer we did have them, but I wanted to get out of the house before I made my parents even more upset with me.

"In the back seat of the SUV," my father growls.

"Oh, um, thanks Dad," I reply and then sprint for the safety of the car.

* * *

><p>Forks High School was small with a student population of under four-hundred students (which was the size of my last school). It was also poorly designed for the weather conditions. It was quite a few separate builds with parking lots sprawled in between. Great for walking in the rain.<p>

Jace pulled up to the first building with a small sign that said Front Office overhead. The only other vehicle there is a beaten up, faded red truck. We get out of our SUV.

"Ready for hell?" I ask Jace. He chuckles.

"Do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"Yes, I am a writer after all." I tease. Then we both step up on the curb and into the Front Office of Forks High School.


	2. First Day

**A/N Hopefully this chapter is a little better than the last one. That was just to get acquainted with Lizzie. I don't think I have much to say this time I except 1) I still don't own **_**Twilight**_** or any quotes from it. Stephenie Meyer does. 2) Thank you to Da RaNdOm Person for the review. 3) I like reviews. No, I **_**love**_** reviews. Just letting you know *cough* hint, hint *cough*. **

There are two people in the Front Office, one was the secretary. She was wearing a purple t-shirt and chubby didn't even begin to cover what was under it. She also had red hair that I was ninety-nine percent positive she dyed. Her glasses hung slightly down on her nose a she looked over them at the girl in front of her.

The girl wasn't beautiful, but not ugly either. She was just average. She had long, almost mahogany hair that framed a heart shaped face. And were those chocolate eyes? She was shorter than me, but she looked nice. Jace and I patiently wait our turn in line while she talks to the little secretary. It isn't a long affair, and soon the girl begins to leave.

"Hi," Jace saunters confidently up to the women. She doesn't stand a chance, and is instantly mesmerized by my older brother. "We're the Monarchs. I'm Jace." He motions to himself. "And this is Lizzie. I believe our father stopped by a few days ago and had everything arranged…?" He trails off into a question.

"Why yes, of course," the women splutters, barely glancing my way. She pulls out two stacks of papers and hands one to each of us. "These are your schedules and you'll need to get these signed by each of your teachers." She points to smaller slips. Then slyly adds, "I can show you the best routes if you want." Her eyes are only for Jace.

"No thank you," I say as I grasp Jace's shirt and tug him away.

"By the way," she stops us just as we are about to exit, "Are you by any chance related to the Cullens?"

"The who?" I ask raising my eyebrows. I've never heard that name before in my life.

"That's a band, sis." Jace rolls his eyes and we head out the door.

* * *

><p>I stare at my brother across the lunch room. Everybody already loves him. Almost all the high schoolers in the lunch room flock to him. I sit at a table with some "friends" I've made myself. First off, there's Bella, the brunette I saw in the Front Office this morning. She's new here too, but she's got kind of a dreamy look on her face, and I have a feeling she's not paying attention to anything trivial. I had her in Trig and Spanish along with Jessica, a short, wild-haired brunette who's chattering away about all that is trivial. Then there's Eric, an Asian kid with sleek black hair. He's nice, but kind of creepy at the same time. Finally there was Lauren, an extremely blond girl, who currently alternates between death glaring at me and death glaring at Bella. I think she believes her bitchy popular ass is about to be dethroned.<p>

I ignore most of the gossip that spills from Jessica's mouth (and the stares that are occasionally thrown towards Bella and me, though Jace is still in the spotlight). I personally don't care about Speedo padding on the swim team or the fact someone said that as Mrs. Cope and Mr. Greene are having an affair. I don't know anyone here; this info is useless to me.

All of a sudden, Bella has the urge to speak. "Who are they?"

She's staring over my shoulder. I turn my head to see, and when I do, I already know the answer.

"The Cullens." I can see why the secretary thought Jace might be related. They are beyond gorgeous. There aren't words to describe them, well except incredibly pale. Godly might work. Even Jace doesn't match their beauty.

There are four boys. The one that stands out most to me is the blond. Actually it's a bit more of a honey blond than a blond blond but I am digressing. He has a tall, lean, almost leonine feel about him. Not to mention it looks like he's in pain. His height is rivaled by two of the other guys. They are both tall and have dark brown hair, though one has curly hair while the other's is straight. The straight haired boy doesn't quite look American… maybe European. The curly-haired one is all muscle. It's very intimidating. The last boy has copper colored hair, and is less manly than the other three.

The two girls were just as good-looking as the boys. The one I liked better was the smaller one. She had choppy black hair that pointed in every direction, and reminded me very much of a fairy. She always stayed within in reach of the straight-haired tall boy. The other girl creeps me out in the extreme. She is past the reach of every male in this room, her beauty unrivaled. Her wavy blond hair flows down to the middle of her back, and something tells me that you don't want to mess with her when she's angry. To my surprise, the other tall boy wraps his arms around her waist.

"Yeah," Jessica replies to my answer, eyeing me warily. "How did you know that?"

"The secretary," I confess. "She thought my brother," I motion in Jace's direction. "Might have been related to them."

I risk a glance at the Cullen table, and find that the copper boy is watching our table; it seems Jessica, Bella and I in particular. He steers his eyes away, and Bella and Jess both look down. I am mesmerized by this strange family, and even though I caught a bit of the boy's stare, don't look down, even though I am embarrassed. The blond boy glances our way, at me individually. Then I lower my gaze.

"The little girl is Alice, dates the dark, straight-haired boy Rixon. Rosalie dates the other tall boy, Emmett. The blonde boy Jasper is her twin. The gorgeous bronze-haired one is Edward. Unfortunately…" Jess sniffs disdainfully, "none of the girls here are good enough for Edward or Jasper."

I snicker. Apparently someone got rejected.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" Bella inquires. "They don't look related…"

"Oh they're not. Doctor Cullen is really young, in his twenties maybe. They're all adopted, though obviously the Hales, Jasper and Rosalie, are related. They're like Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew or something."

Jess's tone of voice says she doesn't approve. I disagree and am about to voice my opinion when Bella pipes in.

"That's really kind of nice- for them to take care of all those kids like that when they're so young and everything."

Jess pauses and says, "I guess, but I don't think Mrs. Cullen can have any kids."

I get the impression that she doesn't like Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, and from the glances she's shooting at their kids, I'd say she's jealous.

"Have they been here long?" Bella just wants to know everything about these strangers.

"No, they moved down from 'Alaska' two years ago." You can practically see Jess's implications in the air.

Jessica is really starting to irritate me, so I get up; mumble quick thanks for letting me sit at her table, and then head to Psychology.

* * *

><p>When I arrive in the room, no one, not even the teacher is there. I pull out my current read, <em>The Iron Queen<em> by Julie Kagawa, and nestle into a seat in the front row. Class doesn't start for another twenty minutes, which should give me plenty of time to finish at least two or three chapters. I start where I left Megan and Ash, but can't follow their story. The Cullens are on my mind. After a few futile minutes, I switch to writing my own story in my notebook. That is much easier, the words flow onto the paper and soon I entirely forget about the beautiful pale skinned people in the lunch room. Then the worst possible thing happens.

"Excuse me," a voice like wind chimes addresses me. "But this is my seat."

I look up and see no less than the face of Rosalie Hale. Pure beauty, glaring at me. Women like that are usually too cruel and too full of themselves to care for others.

"S-sorry," I stutter, and quickly relinquish my chair. I'm going to have nightmares about her tearing me to ribbons in the future.

Now that Rosalie has relieved me from my fantasy world, I check the clock and see that twenty minutes have passed and that class is about to start. I decide that it's a golden opportunity for me to get my slip signed by the teacher.

"Excuse me," I walk up to the squat man in the front of the room.

"Oh, hello, you must be Isabella Swan," he attempts to be friendly. It doesn't come across well; he has a loud, obnoxious voice. He also got my name wrong.

"Uh, no. I'm Elizabeth Monarch." Though I could understand if I got confused with Bella. We were both brunettes and both new students.

"Oh, yeah," realization spreads across his face. "I met your brother in first hour gym, nice kid." He smiles wistfully.

Gym would explain the voice, and the brother thing just came with the territory.

"Well can you sign this for me?" I ask, waving the slip in his face in order to avoid a rant about Jace.

"What?" he has no idea what I'm talking about until his eyes zero in on the paper. "Oh, of course, I'll just sign for seventh hour too, because that's when you'll be having gym." He swiftly scribbles his name on the paper twice. Coach Clapp. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah, where do you want me to sit?" I jerk my thumb towards the hoard of teenagers and desks behind me.

"Umm…" he scans the room and then flourishes towards an open spot with his pen. "You can sit in front of Mr. Hale."

I turn around and my eyes zone in on the seat in front of Jasper. It's going to be a little disconcerting sitting in front of him, but I perceive no alternate options. I sigh and start that way. My every movement is being watched by the whole classroom, because now that Jace is no longer present they have me to gawk at.

I sit down quickly and whip my books out of my bag, while venturing a quick peek at Jasper. He's looking straight at a wall. Weird.

I set my book on my desk and flip through the pages. I haven't heard of any of this. Ever. This is going to be my hardest class by far. I run my hand through my hair in frustration. We should have never moved here. I flip the clump of hair behind my ears and brace myself for notes as Coach Clapp starts talking.

All of a sudden, I hear an earsplitting crack behind me, and everyone in the room turns in the direction of the sound. Jasper Hale is on one knee, on the floor. His right hand is gripping a hunk of desk he ripped off. At first, he stares at the ground. Then his murderous black eyes look at me, filled with hate. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, like he's struggling with self-control.

Rosalie moves to her brother's side in an instant, gripping his arm tenaciously.

"Sorry, Coach Clapp," she says though her eyes, like Jasper's, are trained on me. "My brother has low blood sugar. He probably forgot to take his insulin this morning. Do you mind if I take him outside for some fresh air? We can run by the car and get his insulin."

Coach Clapp nods. He isn't focusing on Jasper; he's focusing on the desk. A whole third has been snapped off by Jasper's bare hands.

"Thank you." Rosalie heaves Jasper up, and walks him out of the room. He keeps his head down. I don't even think he's breathing. Rose whispers something in his ear, and glowers at me once more as they leave the class.

"Well," Coach Clapp sighs, "I'll have to file a report about this, so you can spend the rest of class reading pages 186 to 199."

I open my book, and hope no one else throws me a death glare today.

* * *

><p>Sixth hour passes by quickly, and soon I'm in the gym with Coach Clapp and Bella. Bella is being hounded by some spiky-haired blond kid. I swoop in to rescue her.<p>

"Hey, Bella," I casually walk over to her side. The blond walks away as soon as I appear. Apparently once the other new girl comes over it's not a party anymore. "How's the day going?"

"Huh?" She looks over at me. "Oh, hi. It's going well." Her face doesn't match her words.

"Are you sure? Because my day has been pretty crappy."

"Yeah." She doesn't know my name, I can tell because she did the same thing with Jessica at lunch. I doubt she even knows who I am.

"I'm Lizzie Monarch, by the way," I add, hoping to get her talking. "The other new girl?"

Bella becomes less uneasy when she hears this.

"In that case, my day has been pretty crappy too." She attempts a smile. "Apparently I magically stabbed Edward Cullen with a pencil."

I laugh. "That's okay. Jasper Hale had a diabetic attack in my Psychology class. He gave me the evil eye the whole time and his sister Rosalie looked like she could've ripped my head off.

"Really?" Bella asks. I think this is the first conversation I've actually seen her interested in the whole day.

"Yeah it was creepy. Jasper actually tore a piece of the desk off."

Bella's eyes widen. "That's odd. Edward Cullen spent the whole time in Biology class leaning away from me and giving me a death glare."

I shake my head. "They are an interesting bunch."

"Monarch! Swan! Get in the game." Coach Clapp calls across the gym. There are four volleyball games being played, and apparently we are supposed to join in. Bella shifts uncomfortably, but sighs.

"I guess we should play."

"Don't worry," I wink at her, obviously playing volleyball is what's bugging her. She doesn't give the impression of being a sporty person. "I'll cover for you.

Another smile touches her lips, and then we go and play. Sometimes we'll sub out and talk some more about different things, like our old homes. Hers is Phoenix, Arizona. She tells me that she moved away because her mom got remarried to a minor league baseball player. They travel a lot, so Bella couldn't go with her mom everywhere. So Bella came to Forks to live with her dad, Charlie. I tell her my circumstances, glad I found someone who can empathize. Bella and I could become very good friends if she gives me the chance.

* * *

><p>I'm comforted when we arrive home. This was the worst possible first day at a new school. The only good thing that happened was meeting Bella. When my parents ask me about it at dinner I shrug and poke my spaghetti. Jace senses something is wrong immediately.<p>

"Hey what's up sis?" He asks gently.

"The sky," I retort sarcastically. I'm not in the mood for a pity party. I just want to go home to Michigan.

"That wasn't the answer I was looking for." Jace is studying me now; he should be in psychology if he thinks he's going to get solutions from my face.

The whole family sits in silence for several minutes. Finally I can't bear it anymore.

"School didn't go great, okay? A lot of people are jerks and I'm pretty sure I've already got enemies."

Everyone looks at me bewildered. Normally I don't hate things this much. I continue my rampage.

"Why did we have to come to stupid Washington? There's nothing here for me. Why can't we go back to Michigan? At least I actually had friends there. This so stupid!"

I tear out of my seat and shove my dishes in the sink. Then I retreat to my room, where I type my story on my laptop until 1 a.m.


	3. Slush Balls

**A/N I do not own **_**Twilight**_**, and I also don't own **_**The Iron Queen**_** by Julie Kagawa. I have not taken a Psychology class and I am not sure why I have Coach Clapp teaching that class. I don't think I have anything else to say except please review. It is very discouraging when nobody reviews. Enjoy!**

When I head to the kitchen for breakfast nobody bothers me. They haven't seen me like this in forever. The last time was middle school, when everybody made a bug deal of picking on me. Those were the worst years of my life. That's what had bugged me about Jessica; she was making the Cullens into something they were not. They probably could have cared less, but still, that was how it started in my middle school.

The drive to school is as uneventful as breakfast.

When I arrive at school, it's a totally different situation. People are watching me, like literally stalking me with their eyes. When I move, somebody is always trailing me. It's even more disconcerting than sitting in front of Jasper Hale.

I ease through the first three classes of the day without incident, but when Trig comes around Jess springs.

"Your father works for a corporation in Seattle?" she asks, eyes bugging out of her head.

"Uh-huh," I offer a nonchalant response. All I know is that it brings in money for my family, and that's good enough for me.

"And he makes over one million dollars a year?" I'm not surprised by Jess's assumption. Anyone who works for a big business must make big money by society's standards.

"Um, no. That's about as likely as Mrs. Cope and Mr. Greene getting together and having an affair." Jess blushes bright red. I continue on with the truth. "He's supposed to make like $200,000 a year because of his promotion. He used to make around $80,000."

I'm pretty sure Jess's jaw is going to fall off with the way it hangs open. I realize that the amount probably seems very large to people in this small town. I decide to try to craft my story to seem less glamorous.

"However," I press onward when she doesn't respond. "He's not going to be able to spend a lot of time with my family. Since his job is in Seattle it's going to be my mom, my two brothers and me by ourselves during the week. My dad will spend his time in a hotel. It sucks big time."

"He gets to stay in a hotel?" The expressions Jess has given me in the last five minutes are starting to cause me to worry about her health.

"Yeah…" I plan to carry on explaining the downsides to my dad's job, but I have a feeling that Jess isn't going to take the hint.

"That's so cool! ..." Jessica begins to babble on about all the perks he'll get. I roll my chocolate brown eyes. She's not going to understand. On the bright side, at least she felt guilty about spreading the rumors about Mrs. Cope and Mr. Greene. Otherwise she wouldn't have blushed when I brought it up. I decide I'll give her a chance to be my friend. And maybe some of the other kids too. I can't live in a friendless hell for two more years.

* * *

><p>At lunch everyone is interested in me, apparently the word has spread that I am a rich man's daughter. I swallow my annoyance and tried to be amiable and make new friends. I learn that the blond boy that followed Bella the day before is named Mike. There is a quiet dark haired girl with glasses who's name is Angela that also sits with us. I could definitely make friends with her. I try to converse with her and Bella, but I keep getting overwhelmed by questions from everyone else. I end up chattering away endlessly about my dad's job. That is, until the Cullens come in and steal my breath away.<p>

There are only four of them today, the two tall boys and the girls. I become worried. Maybe Jasper's situation is more serious than I think. I have no idea what's become of Edward. I watch their table for several minutes, and I notice Bella is doing the same. Not a single one of them looks our way. Lunch ends faster than I believe is possible, and I proceed to Psychology.

I'm not early like yesterday; in fact the only seat that hasn't been filled is Jasper's. Then the bell rings and Coach Clapp still isn't in the room. All of a sudden Mrs. Cope rushes in, her long red hair trailing behind her.

"Coach Clapp is taking a day off for vacation. I'm your sub." She goes to the front desk and begins checking off names on the attendance sheet. All the students continue talking. Then she looks up.

"Excuse me, Rosalie," Mrs. Cope addresses the gorgeous blond. "Where's your brother?"

Rosalie's full lips turn down in a frown and the noise in the room quiets. Everybody wants to hear what happened to Jasper. "I'm afraid he had a diabetic attack yesterday. We thought it was minor but it turned out to be more serious. He probably won't be attending class for a while."

"Oh," Mrs. Cope's lips turn down also. "What a shame. Tell him I hope he feels better soon."

"I will." Rosalie nods. Mrs. Cope resumes taking attendance and when she's finished she reads off the assignment.

"Please read pages 186 to 199 of your textbook."

Groans resound throughout the class. We don't want to read the same selection two days in a row.

"We already read that," a pretty senior girl with freckles in the front of the room complains.

"You did?" Mrs. Cope questions, looking over her eyeglasses at us. We all nod and mumble in assent. Mrs. Cope is apprehensive. "Are you sure? Mr. Clapp just gave me these instructions yesterday morning."

Another groan ripples through the class. Outdated instructions by a few hours. Lovely. The senior in the front pipes up again.

"Coach Clapp gave you those like before Jasper had his freak out in class." At this point I figure out the girl possesses a very snobbish voice. Her mouth also moves at a hundred miles per hour. "He totally almost died from his diabetic attack and then like Rosalie had to drag him out of the room and then Coach Clapp was like 'OMG, Now I have to write up a report, ugh' and then he was like 'Everybody read pages 186 to 199' and then we like read the whole hour. It was soooooo boring. And now we have to read it again and it's like going to suck." I also discovered she's _like_ not very good at English. Mrs. Cope seems to agree with me and is giving the girl a funny expression. I almost crack up laughing but then realize that these students are mostly seniors and are probably used to her by now. I see Rosalie's shoulders vibrate though, and her hand is covering her mouth.

"Okay, thanks for that information Sarah," Mrs. Cope applauds the chatter box. "I'm going to guess that what Sarah said is true?" she asks the rest of us. We nod. Why else would we be moaning for the last five minutes?

"Okay, then…" with her red hair and the smoke drifting out of her ears as Mrs. Cope ponders the situation I'm pretty sure she is on fire. Then a light bulb appears above her head. "We can create get well soon cards for Jasper! That would be perfect. Hold on and I'll go get some construction paper from the art wing."

As soon as Mrs. Cope evacuates the room the babble starts up once again. I hear bits and pieces of different discussions.

"Do you really think Hale could get sick…?"

"Nu-uh the guy looks invincible half the time…"

"What should I write on his card…?"

"I'm going to tell him that I think he's like, so totally hot…"

"But what if…?"

I pity the freckled girl. She is talking about telling Jasper he's hot in a get well card? I don't thing anyone in their right mind will enjoy that while their sick. Mrs. Cope returns in five minutes with a stack of construction paper that she places on the front desk. Immediately half the classroom swarms to it. I sit back and wait. I don't think I really want to make Jasper a card. I'm not a very talented artist. So I chose to write him a letter instead. I pluck a piece of lined paper from my notebook and commence writing, choosing my words carefully as always.

_Jasper_, I write. I only save dear for close acquaintances.

_I'm so terribly sorry that you are sick, especially since we haven't really gotten to know each other yet. Your family seems nice, and I hope you get better for their sake as well as your own. Hopefully you don't hate me as much as I think you do. No offense, but that glare you gave me while you had your diabetic attack was a bit disconcerting. Not to mention the one your sister gave me afterward. Is she thinking about ripping my head off? Because that's what it looks like. Again, no offense. Also, I guess I would like to apologize for everyone at this school's behavior towards you. Most of the students here, I think, judge to quickly and search for answers later. Or they just look at the physical appearance. I pray Sarah doesn't actually write to tell you that you're hot in her get well card. I don't think any of this would happen so often if you and your siblings weren't so aloof. But, then again I suppose you have a reason for being that way. Maybe you could tell me why, I am a writer. I can transform almost anything into a story, unless you'd prefer I didn't. You could tell me about your Alaskan adventures once you are better._

_Keep fighting that sugar!_

_Lizzie Monarch_

I smile as I read over the letter, especially when I read the part about fighting the sugar. It's very original. This is exactly how I wanted the letter to turn out. Hopefully Jasper will get a chance to read it before the whole secrecy and lack of contact with everybody else takes over. Or Rosalie tears it to shreds.

I silently stroll up to Mrs. Cope's desk among the uproar from the other students. Card making also involves socializing evidently.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Cope?" She doesn't hear my voice in the ruckus.

"Excuse me," I speak a bit louder and enunciate. "Mrs. Cope?"

She glances up from whatever she is doing. A sudoku puzzle, I think.

"Yes, Miss Monarch?"

"Do you have an envelope?"

"For what?"

I brandish the letter in her face. "I wrote a letter instead of a card. You can see through the paper so I thought an envelope might be nice for privacy."

"Oh, of course dear." She slides open a drawer and pulls out an envelope. She hands it to me and says, "You know they say a picture is worth a thousand words, maybe you can make him a card too."

"No thank you ma'am," I reply. "A picture is only worth a thousand words when people can actually understand what it is. With my artistic abilities I severely doubt that's going to happen."

I rapidly return to my desk and address the envelope _Jasper Hale_. Then I put it in Mrs. Cope's able hands and read for the rest of the hour. The action in _The Iron Queen_ is getting very good.

* * *

><p>"I'm starting work in Seattle tomorrow," Dad announces at dinner that evening. My brothers and I look at him like he's crazy.<p>

"Nice joke Dad," Jace says, scooping some peas into his mouth while I stick my tongue out at him in disgust. Peas taste dreadful. "You already told us you wouldn't start until at least a month after we got here. Plus, would psychotic Lizzie do if you actually left now? When her life here in Forks is so, and I quote 'stupid?'"

"I'm working on it, Jace," I throw back. How dare he bring that up again? "You would have done the same thing I did yesterday if you'd had the same day I did. Unfortunately, unlike you I don't have good looks to get everybody to instantaneously love or be able to quash the stupid ones with a single blow. You move through friends like the breeze through an open field. It took me forever to make friends in Michigan. You think I want to go through that again here?"

"Are you trying to make friends, Lizzie?" my mother asks, concerned.

"Yes, mom. I am actually attempting too, now that you mention it. It's just a few people here remind me of the jerks from middle school. I'm trying to adapt though." I try to placate her with the last sentence.

"Good," my father rumbles. "Because I really do have to start work tomorrow."

"Why, Dad?" I ask. "They said they'd give you time to settle your family in."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie, I don't know why. If this will have an affect on your attitude about being Forks, I can try and get the weekend." He's worried about me having another outburst; I can see it in his eyes. Just as chocolaty as mine.

"I'll be fine, Daddy," I assure him. "Yesterday was uncalled for. Even if my first day wasn't spectacular, I shouldn't have vented on you guys."

"I'll say," Jace smirks, "Mark was scared that you'd go in his room and suck his blood. Forget the monsters."

"Was not!" Mark retorts. With that, my family falls easily into a normal conversation, and dinner concludes on a happy note. I head to my room to finish off my homework and write some of my story.

* * *

><p>I've nearly completed my Trig homework when there's a soft knock on my door.<p>

"Lizzie," my dad calls tenderly, "Are you in there?"

"Yes, dad come on in."

I stay sprawled out on my mattress as my dad enters. I have no desire to move, though I do stretch my arm muscles briefly. My dad analyzes my position.

"That looks uncomfortable."

"Yes, homework generally is."

A weak smile touches his lips.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for shoving this on you so fast. You seem to be the one having the hardest time adapting."

"It's fine Dad, really. I thought the sunlight people would have issues. I guess I forgot about my own problems. I'm in control now though, I promise." I reorder my face from thinking about homework look to comforting Dad.

"I know you are sweetheart. I just wanted to let you know, if this ever becomes too much, I can resign." I am surprised at his words. He technically only has to deal with me for two more years.

"Thanks, Dad. But don't you think that's a little shortsighted? You've only got me for two more years."

He shrugs. "It is what it is. Oh, and I also though not this weekend but the next one we could meet in Seattle and I would take you shopping for this room. I know you'd prefer not to go with you mother like the boys. All the cars should be here by then."

"That'd be great, Dad. Now, are you going to tease me about my Trig or not?" I hold up my scribbles for a single problem and he laughs. Then he shows me the way to the answer that I comprehend. He stays until I finish, though he's probably uncomfortable sitting on the floor. Then he leaves to go to the other side of our gigantic mansion.

"I love you, Dad." I say as he leaves the room. I know I truly am still his baby girl.

* * *

><p>The school week passes without a sign of Jasper or Edward. Bella is frantic the first few days. Every day she scans their lunch table as though impending doom may be coming her way. I look a few times, only to be met by either the curious gaze of Alice Cullen or the malevolent glare of Rosalie.<p>

Then Monday it snows.

"Why did it have to snow now?" I complain to Jace as we drive to drop Mark off. Now that our dad is in Seattle it's our duty to transport Mark to and from Forks Elementary. It's my week to drive, according to Jace, and I hate the snow.

"Just drive Lizzie, or I'm hitting you with a snowball at lunch."

"Fine." I throttle the accelerator. Jace freaks.

The first part of the day passes as what I consider normal now. Meet with Bella and Jess, talk with them, and try to be an average high schooler. The second half of the day, now that's a little out of my comfort zone.

It starts at lunch. Jasper and Edward are back. If that's not enough to keep me on my toes I'm also slightly worried about Jace knocking my head off with a snow- actually slush ball. There are already some slush wars going on, and Bella is holding her binder in case she needs to deflect a flying slush ball.

Bella buys only a soda, and I follow suit. Like I said, I already have enough distractions. Plus, if I do get nailed by Jace, I don't want to have slush mess up perfectly good food.

Soon, I fall into a false sense of security and notice Bella checking out something across the lunchroom. I already know it's the Cullen table, but I take a peek anyway. They are all laughing and the boys' hair is covered in snow. Emmett is shaking his hair at Alice and Rosalie, and Alice holds up a lunch tray as a shield. They are enjoying the snowy day like everyone else. I return my attention to my soda.

Jessica notices Bella's stare shortly after I do, and has the carelessness to ask, "Bella what are you staring at?"

At that very instant Bella looks down, and I see why. Edward is looking our way.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jess remarks to Bella. "And Lizzie, isn't that your brother?" She points behind me.

"Crap," I barely manage a glance over my shoulder before instinct kicks in. He has a slush ball. I pretend not to notice him.

"Jess," I whisper, "as soon my brother throws the slush ball in his right hand duck. Not before he throws it, right when he tosses it."

"What? Why?" Is she really that stupid?

"Just do it Jess." Jessica is straight across from me, so if she and I duck at about the same time, both of us should miss being pied in the head. Bella doesn't get it either. She's looking at me strangely. Then Jess ducks. I mimic her movements and the slush ball flies over our heads. I feel a little spittle from it touch the back of my neck. When the threat is gone I straighten back up. Then I gasp when I see where it is going. The Cullen table on the other side of the room. Jace must have really put something behind that pitch. As the slush gets closer to its new destination, I can tell its going straight for Jasper Hale. I put my hand in front of my face and hide my eyes. Why me?

"Whoa," Jess marvels, "Did you just see that?"

"See what?" Bella and I ask at the same time. I realize Bella is in the same position as me.

"Jasper just totally flicked that slush ball away; it didn't even come close to hitting him." Jess struggles to use her hand show exactly what he did.

"Are any of them looking this way?" I question.

"Yeah, Edward, he's still staring at Bella."

"Does he look angry, does he?" Bella worries.

"Better question, does Jasper look angry?" I wonder. I don't really desire to be glared at during Psychology again.

"No, Edward's just staring and Jasper looks like he's chuckling. Why?"

"I just don't want Jasper to be angry about the slush ball," I grumble. I'm going to have a talk with my dear brother after school.

"I don't think Edward likes me very much," Bella confides. Then she puts her head down on her arm, completely hiding her face.

"The Cullens don't like anybody…" Jess snorts. "Well they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But Bella, Edward is still staring at you.

"Stop looking," Bella hisses. Jess snickers and then obliges her. The Mike interrupts to ask if we want to join an epic snow ball battle after school. Jess eagerly agrees. I politely decline. Bella stays silent. I doubt she'll join in. I'll have to get to the car as fast as possible.

* * *

><p>I am one of the last people to arrive at Psychology, again. The only seats left empty are Jasper and Rosalie Hale. Maybe they decided to skip.<p>

But of course, my hunch about the Hales skipping is wrong. They slide into their desks as the bell rings. I don't look behind me.

"Well, Jasper," Coach Clapp comments, "Glad to see you back. I presume you took your insulin today?"

I presume Jasper nods, because he doesn't speak, and Coach Clapp sets down the attendance list.

"So, class today I am going to assign a partner project. It is very simple. Some time during the course of the next week, you and your partner are going to get together and do psychological observations on each other. I will hand out a list of questions that you will ask each other. You must not pay attention to only the verbal answers, but also the physical answers they give you. Do they look up before answering? Do they shift slightly in their seat? These will tell you what they aren't saying. Afterward, I expect each person to write an analysis on their partner and hand it in. We will not be presenting." He looks over each and every one of us. "Any questions?"

"Do we get choose partners?"

"No, then you may already know a lot of information about that person. Your partner will be either the person in front of or behind you. Every odd numbered desk in each row will be partnered with the desk behind them. Look now and see who it is. I'll give you five- no ten minutes to discuss the details. If you don't have a partner raise your hand."

I count the desks in front of me. I am the fifth person in the row.

"Crap." I don't have the courage to turn around. Jasper Hale is my Psychology partner. Hopefully he doesn't actually hate me.

"Elizabeth," a low smooth voice like the ones cowboys have in western movies comes from behind me. "Are we actually going to talk about this, or are you going to stare at the board?"

I slowly inch around in my seat. Jasper is leaning all the way back in his seat. His eyes are gold today instead of black. I don't ask why.

"So…?" he trails off into a question.

"Um…" I try to gather myself. "We could go to my house during the week, when my Dad isn't home."

"We could do it during lunch," he offers. He seems to esteem this option.

"No. Noise affects how a person reacts. We have to work when it's silent."

He reflects on this for a minute, then sighs, "Fine. What day?"

"How about Friday? I won't have to worry about the rest of my homework once we are done with the inquisitions."

"That sounds good." It's a simple answer; I can't make a conversation out of that. We end up in kind of an awkward stare off.

"So… Did you get my letter?" I inquire. It's the only thing I can think of that relates to both of us.

"Yes. Thank you. You are a very talented writer," an inkling of a smile creeps onto his lips. "I do think Rosalie hates you, though."

I am astonished by his honesty. Most people don't say things like that directly to someone else's face.

"Well, as long as you don't hate me I think we're good," I tease.

A doubtful looks crosses his face, "I'm not sure if that would be a good thing."

My eyebrows scrunch together, "Why?"

"Have you ever heard the expression things aren't always what they seem? I believe you referenced something similar in your letter."

"Yes."

"Then after this project you should know to stay away from me." A threatening smile crosses his face.

I am unabashed. I even try to crack a joke.

"Uh-uh. I know your weakness. I'll just wave a bag of sugar in your face and you'll drop like Superman confronted with Kryptonite."

Jasper is amused, but his response is cut off by Coach Clapp telling us to open our books and observe a diagram on board.

* * *

><p>Jasper doesn't bother me again until I reach the parking lot. I slip on a melting patch of ice and fall on my butt. I catch sight of Jasper by the Cullens' silver Volvo, laughing. Jace laughs too, until I remind him he has to pay for trying to whack me and instead whacking Jasper in the head. Jace knows I'm diabolical, so for his own safety he stops.<p> 


	4. Evacuating the Premises

**A/N Hi! So I am very excited to report that I got a review from Dalonega Noquisi and another one from Da RaNdOm Person. Thank you! I am also here to tell you that the closer it gets to the school year the more time there will be in between chapters getting published. Hopefully is shouldn't go over a week but I will make two weeks my max. If I haven't published in that time feel free to hit me over the head with a Psychology text book. This one took a little longer because my mom deleted half of it and I had to retype it. Oh, and I don't own **_**Twilight**_**, unfortunately. And also, I don't have any medical experience; I'll try to my best with the injuries and from what I learned from a single trip to the emergency room. Don't eat me if it's not that good.**

There's snow covering the ground, and I have to drive again this morning. I argue with Jace throughout breakfast that he should drive because he has more experience than I do. I haven't had my license very long because I have a late birthday. I'm only sixteen right now. Michigan laws are strange.

Finally just before we leave my mom solves our dilemma. She says she agrees with me that Jace should drive. I can tell from the way she does it she's trying to get on my good side.

"My revenge is complete," I say as I get into the passenger seat of the car. I attempt an evil villain expression and Jace looks surprised as he turns the car on.

"_This_ is your revenge?" He seems skeptical. I have to admit this rather tame compared to what I've done before. Once, Jace read one of my stories and I had told everyone in my family not to. I put tampons in his bag for Boy Scout camp. It was hilarious when he came back and told me it had fallen out right in front of his pack leader. He was thirteen. He quit Boy Scouts the very next day. Another time he stole a book I was reading. First I turned his room upside down to see if the book was in there, and then I covered it in toilet paper. There were some that were even more outlandish, but I won't mention them here. In short, you would think he would've learned to not do things I don't like. But no.

"Yep," I reply. "I don't have time for your stupid pranks right now. I have a mystery to solve."

"What kind of mystery? This isn't something you're making up in your head is it?" he groans. Last time I wrote a short story about a mystery it was action packed, and I needed a test dummy for fight scenes. Jace excelled at being dragged onto his rear end by me in some way or another.

"No, this is a real mystery, it's called Jasper Hale." I say Jasper's name with a little emphasis. Normally, I don't like to pry where other people don't want me, but Jasper is just irresistible. I had spent previous night writing up a story about a character that reminded me of him. In the story the main character, Shane, has a secret. The secret is that Shane is cursed. Whenever somebody loves him, whether it's brotherly, motherly, or romantic love they die a terrible death. Because of this, Shane is aloof from society and just trying to make it through high school without killing anybody. Then he figures he'll just get through his life alone, working for some big corporation.

"Lizzie has a boyfriend!" Mark calls from the back seat. He says that every time I mention a guy that isn't related to me.

"You wish, Squirt!" I smile and look at my grinning little brother in the rearview mirror. "Then you could tell Dad and freak him out." My father would freak out if I got a boyfriend, especially now that he was going to be so far away all the time. He'd get just a little over controlling and then we'd all be in trouble.

"Yes," Jace rolls his eyes. "That would bode well for all of us." Jace has a girlfriend named Bekki back in Michigan, who is also one of my best friends. Once he graduates from high school he plans to go back to our home state and go to college with her at the University of Michigan.

"It'd be interesting to say the least." I sigh with longing as we reach the end of our driveway. I've never had a boyfriend.

My brother decides that now is a wonderful time to point that out.

"You've never had a boyfriend, Liz. What makes this guy so worth investigating? Isn't he the one I almost egged in the head with that snowball?"

"Yes, you did almost whack him with a slush ball. Fortunately he was able to defend himself." Then I have to put into words what makes him so interesting. "He's worth investigating because, well… He's just so different and… so inviting." I think about how odd Jasper Hale is. First off his eyes change colors drastically. I've never met a person whose eyes change from black to gold. Second, he's so standoffish, and no one really knows why. I doubt it's because the Cullens think they're better than everyone else, except maybe Rosalie. Third, he told me he's dangerous, just not in those words. He said. "After this project you should know to stay away from me." It's exactly like something Shane from my story would have said. The way Jasper said it though; it felt like a challenge, even if it wasn't meant that way. I'd have to solve this mystery if I wanted to sleep at night.

"Ooo, inviting, such a spectacular quality," Jace taunts. Then he glances back at my little brother. "Hey Mark don't unbuckle-"

"Jace look out!" I shriek. A deer has just appeared from the woods on the side of the road and we're about to hit it.

"Shit!" Jace swears out loud and swerves. The worst thing he can do, and the ice on the road doesn't. We careen towards the woods and into a large tree trunk. The airbags inflate with a _crack_ on impact and we are all thrown forward. The windshield shatters. I feel like I'm being hit by a steam engine when I collide with airbags. All of this happens in less than 15 seconds.

After this I'm incredibly lightheaded and woozy, but surprisingly conscious, though I cannot comprehend what just happened. It all went by so fast. Slowly the lightheadedness fades and I then I snap back into reality.

"Shit!" I repeat Jace's words and look at him next to me. He's in an awkward position, leaning slightly to the right since he just turned from looking at Mark. There's some blood dripping from his head down the dashboard, I can't really see the rest of his body.

I try to turn and look at Mark, but there's a pain in my right leg as I attempt to shove off and turn around. I don't even look to see what it is; if I do I might pass out. My next thought is: cell phone. Then I groan, all the cell phones are in our school bags in the trunk. Jace can't use his while driving and I only really use mine when I need too. Crap

"Mark," I say, but my voice is shaky. "Mark?"

No reply. I close my eyes and lay my head against the head rest. If we get out of this whole I'm never letting Jace drive again. You never swerve to avoid deer. It's better to hit the breaks or hit them head on. Always maintain control of the vehicle! Didn't he pay attention in driver's ed.?

I open my eyes. There's got to be a way to get out of this. Then something moves in my peripheral vision. Lord knows if it's that deer I'm going to strangle it. But it isn't a deer at all.

Jasper Hale walks out of the woods, and though he's walking, he looks perplexingly still, like he's not breathing. Then he randomly takes a deep breath and walks up to the SUV.

The first words out of his mouth are, "Have you called the emergency services?"

Honestly, I was hoping for something a little more emotional like "Are you okay?" but I guess that works too. Anyway if he had said are you okay I probably would have said something similar to "Does it look like it?"

Currently, I shake my head no. He instantly backs up a few steps and whips out his cell phone. The exchange takes less than a minute and then he starts to walk back into the woods. All of a sudden I'm scared. I realize how alone I am with my two unconscious brothers.

"Don't leave," I whisper in my still shaky voice. I'm so quiet and he's so far away I doubt he can hear me. But then he turns around and stares at me. I stare back, I feel… vulnerable. That's never a good sign.

Jasper visibly exhales and leans against a tree one hundred yards away, watching me. He barely moves until the ambulance arrives. Once it does, Jasper turns away and disappears into the trees.

The paramedics see that I'm awake and tell me that they're going to get my brothers out of the car first because they are both unconscious and probably in more serious condition. I agree by a simple shake of my head. They make quick work of getting the two of them out and then come back for me. I try to tell them that I can almost certainly limp but they say not and put me in a neck brace and on a stretcher just like my brothers. My knee is huge. It's the size of a balloon I swear.

My ambulance goes back to Forks hospital without all the sirens and flashing lights. My brothers on the other hand aren't so lucky. I hear their sirens blaring away. Everybody is asking me questions. I answer to the best of my abilities.

We quickly arrive at Forks Hospital, and all three of us are put in the Emergency Room. Since I am the only one who is lucid, I get barraged with questions about all three of us. Then a doctor tells me my brothers' conditions. Jace is apparently the worst. He most likely has a concussion, his nose and a few ribs are broken, and one of the ribs has punctured a lung. His ankle is twisted and may be broken, and there are probably some cases of internal bleeding. He has a crack in his skull and might have a concussion. They tell me he's not anywhere near dying, but he is going to be in a lot of pain for a while.

Mark is in good condition compared to Jace; he's coming around and may have a minor concussion and a big bump on his head, but other than a few minor bumps and bruises. Apparently he was buckled in.

As for myself, I beat them both. I have just been tested negative for a concussion and have a few little bumps a bruises. My only problem is my leg which is really swollen at the knee. After an x-ray the doctor says it's slightly dislocated and bruised, but after a few weeks and a minor adjustment it should be back to normal.

Then my mother comes in.

"Oh my goodness, Lizzie you're alright." She instantly comes to my bed and attempts to hug me and I put my arms up in front of me in defense.

"Yes, Mom. I'm fine. Mark is over there, and he's worse than I am, you should go see him."

"He worse than you?" she is upset now, Mark is her baby.

"Yes, Mom," I say, playing on her fears. "He might have a concussion so he won't remember who you are."

This freaks my mother out and she starts heading to his area when a blond doctor walks up to her. A very good looking blond doctor. He reminds me of someone on a soap opera, only much better looking. His expression is very caring.

"Are you Mrs. Monarch?" he asks my mom.

"Yes," she nods and looks fervently at my brother's curtain.

"Well it's a good thing you're here," he smiles, and the chuckles to himself. "Well I suppose it's not a good thing, but I'm sure your children are glad you're here. I'm Dr. Cullen," he formally introduces himself, and explains to me why he's so good looking. "I'll be taking over for Dr. Gerandy." He says this for my sake and not my mother's.

"So how are my children?" Mom questions. "Will they be okay? Are they going to need surgery? How long are they-?"

"Calm down, Mrs. Monarch," he soothes her in a methodical voice. "All three of your children will be fine. They were in a low speed car accident with a tree. They were only going about thirty miles per hour according to your daughter. She's in the best shape. She as a few bumps, but the worst part is her knee. We'll have to snap that back into place and she'll have to wear a cast for about four weeks and she might need some physical therapy but after that she'll be perfectly fine. She can go home today. Your younger son has a mild concussion and we're going to keep him here until it passes. Your older son is more serious, and we may have to keep him here a while. If you can come with me please…" He motions with his arm towards where I presume they are keeping Jace. Then he addresses me, "Some nurses should be here soon to fix your leg. After they do that and your mother finishes visiting your brothers, you are free to leave. I don't think you should be driving with that leg." He smiles warmly. I like Jasper's adopted father.

I close my eyes and lie back, because I obviously have nothing better to do. It's also kind of relaxing until-

"Lizzie?" a startled voice comes from my left.

My eyelids snap open, and I crane my neck. "Bella?"

Bella has a neck brace on and is being transferred from a stretcher to an actual hospital bed. A flurry of hospital personnel ensues around Bella's bed, and during that time three nurses come to relocate my leg, which is currently swaddled in bandages.

"Now sweetheart," the nurse who is apparently in charge of the operation says, "this is going to hurt. I'm going to put your knee back in place while Nurse Hilliard and Nurse Conway hold you down. Try to stay calm please. Then we are going to put your knee in a brace. Are you ready?"

"Um, sure?" I've never actually had anyone tell me that something is going to hurt. Most people try to break it to me nicely.

One nurse grabs my calf while the other seizes my upper leg very tightly. The head nurse, whose name tag says Nurse Melanie Vale, glances at me and then starts unwrapping the temporary bandage. My knee is nasty. It's literally the bigger than a softball and is black and blue all over. It's a gruesome sight. Very carefully Nurse Vale begins to manipulate it and it hurts like hell. I end up gripping the bed sheet with both hands and arching my back in pain. I grit my teeth and tell myself grin and bare it. You can hear cracking when she moves it in one direction.

After a long minute she removes her hands and I relax slightly. It still twinges but it is far more bearable. Then the nurse prods it quickly and thoroughly. She decides her work is satisfactory and grabs the brace from the table beside my bed. She's careful when she puts on, trying not to hurt me anymore. Then she smiles.

"You did wonderful, dear. Now, you will have to use crutches for a month or so, but after that if you come back and get your knee checked out and the doctor says everything is okay your life should be back to normal. I'm pretty sure Dr. Cullen said he would bring your crutches by. If he doesn't just give us a ring." She motions to the little remote attached to the bed. Then she and the two other nurses leave to attend to some other patient. I sigh in relief and almost fall back to my bed, but then I remember Bella. I throw my legs over the left side of the bed and turn to face her. She's wide-eyed and slightly green.

"So…" I try diffusing the tension, "Why are you here?"

"Car accident," she replies.

"Oh me too," I say, somewhat relieved that I'm not the only one who butted heads with misfortune. "You don't look as banged up as I do though."

"It's… difficult to explain," her face contorts with frustration, the Edward Cullen glides in and stands at the foot of Bella's bed.

"Oh, hello Elizabeth," he says when he notices me. "What happened?"

"Car accident."

"Oh, Bella and I were just in one as well, though it doesn't look like it was as serious as yours." His full attention turns to Bella. "So what's the verdict?"

"There's nothing wrong with me at all," Bella complains, "but they won't let me go. How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answers. "But don't worry, I came to spring you. I suppose I can help Elizabeth as well, it looks like she should be about done here."

"Thank God," I mutter silently. I though I was going to be stuck in the hospital forever.

Dr. Cullen then sweeps by my bed, leaning crutches up against it.

"There you go Elizabeth; you are free to go whenever you have someone to drive you." He transfers to Bella. "So how are you feeling Miss Swan?"

"I'm fine," Bella replies, she sounds wary of those words.

"Hmm," Dr. Cullen walks over to the wall and turns on a light board with x-rays of a cranium.

"Your x-rays look good," he remarks. "Does your head hurt? Edward says you hit it pretty hard."

"It's fine," Bella repeats. I wonder how many times she has said that today.

Dr. Cullens probes her head much like the nurse probed my knee. Bella winces.

"Tender?" he asks, concerned.

"Not really," Bella's lips pull into a tight smile.

"Well," Dr. Cullen sighs, "Your father is in the waiting room- you can go home with him now. But if you feel dizzy or something is wrong with your eyesight report back here immediately."

"Can't I go back to school?" Bella pleads. Lucky. At least she actually made it to school.

"You should probably take it easy Miss Swan," he says patronizingly.

"Does _he_ get to go to school?" she looks pointedly at Edward.

"I don't think he has to," Dr. Cullen chuckles, "It appears that the majority of your classmates are in the waiting room."

"Oh no," Bella moans at the same time I slap my hand on my forehead. Dr. Cullen and Edward look my way.

"What?" I ask innocently, "They're my classmates too."

"She is right," Bella runs to my defense.

"Well," Dr. Cullen's brow puckers. "You could stay here."

"That won't be necessary," I reply as I inch towards the crutches. "I'll just go find my mother and let her know I need to evacuate the premises as soon as possible." Hopefully my mother would understand my need to avoid attention and just get some rest.

"Your mother is very worried about you brother Jace," Dr. Cullen interjects. "It may be a while." I hesitate. There's no point in going and begging her to leave Jace. That'd just be cruel and unfeeling. I'd want to see him and Mark myself if I wasn't so worn down.

"That's okay," Bella says. "I'm sure Charlie wouldn't mind taking her home."

"That'd be great Bella," I say. It's much better than staying at the hospital.

"I assume that means you plan on going home too Miss Swan?" Dr. Cullen inquires.

"Yep," Bella nods.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggests to her. He smiles at me and says, "I'll go tell your mother you have found a way to 'evacuate the premises.'" I'm glad he found my wording so amusing. The gorgeous blond doctor leaves Bella, Edward, and me alone.

"Lizzie," Bella requests, "Can you go into the waiting room and tell Charlie you will be riding with us? I'll only be a minute." She eyes Edward, thick with implications.

I give them some privacy and go wait with Charlie. He's easy to find because he's the only one dressed like a policeman.

* * *

><p>My father calls me after I've been home for a couple hours. He's freaking out and apologizing profusely for not being able to come down and see me. It takes me several minutes to calm him down and assure him none of us are on the verge of dying. He says his work is keeping him from seeing us. I tell him we understand and tell him I'll see him this weekend.<p>

I write more about Shane that evening, once I figure out how to navigate the stairs. Jasper has given me a ton of material to work with. Now, if only I could figure out his secret.


	5. Questions

**A/N Thanks to CrissYami for the review last chapter. I do not own **_**Twilight**_**. Stephenie Meyer does. Oh, and I was wondering, what do you people think about a companion story (or maybe just a chapter or two in here) from Jasper's point of view? I wouldn't start the companion story right away, but maybe around Christmas Break or when this story gets finished? One more thing… please review, those things motivate me to write more. **

Normally, I don't have dreams. I guess that goes with the whole being a writer thing. I put my dreams down on paper. When I do dream though, it normally has something to do with my day. The night after my incident, I dream of Jasper Hale.

In my dream, I'm back in the hospital lying in a bed. Jasper is staring at me intently from the end of the bed, like he is sizing me up. His eyes are gold in my dream, and I think to myself how lovely they look with his hair. He slowly reaches towards me, and then pulls back with a jerk. He looks frustrated and grips the metal bed frame. When he lets go, the shape of his hands is indented in the bed. He seems resolved, his jaw set.

Finally he says, "Stay away from me Elizabeth." Then he shoves off without another word, striding down the row of curtains. I get up to follow him, and this is when I realize I'm dreaming, because my leg is no longer in a splint. Regardless, I run after Jasper. I figure it's going to be one of those endless hallway things where I can never catch him. Surprisingly I catch up to him very fast. I reach out to grab his shoulder, but before I can he whirls around and grabs my wrist. Then he seizes both my shoulders and pulls me incredibly close, so close that his lips are at my ear.

"Stop, Elizabeth," he whispers. "Or I might kill you." His voice sends shivers down my spine as I watch him walk out of the double doors of the emergency room.

* * *

><p>I wake up groggy with one thing on my mind, my dream. It seemed so vivid, almost like it had happened real life. Under normal circumstances, my dreams are outlandish, and involve me having super powers, close encounters with the supernatural, and everything that isn't real. But this dream…Ugh, it gave me shivers. Not to mention Jasper had never, ever told me he might kill me. That is more similar to Shane in my story. I don't need fantasy to mix with reality at the moment. I've already got enough problems on my hands.<p>

I quickly get dressed. It is difficult and uncomfortable to wear my jeans over my leg brace, so instead I pull on some shorts. Hopefully it doesn't get too chilly. I might have to butcher some pants or invest in a decent pair of sweats to get through the next couple of weeks. I pull a sweatshirt over my t-shirt to try to balance the temperature out.

As I hobble down the stairs I am surprised to smell food. I head to the kitchen to see who is home. Surprisingly, it is my mother.

"Oh, Lizzie good morning sweetheart," I deftly avoid an advance for a hug, though it is much harder with crutches than it would be normally. My mother frowns slightly. I appreciate her coming to take care of me, but it is hardly necessary.

"Mom, what are you doing here? Shouldn't be at the hospital with Jace and Mark?"

"Well dear," Mom says, "Your father called and reminded me that you probably shouldn't be driving with your leg. So I came down to give you a ride to school." She hands me a plate of bacon and pancakes.

"Mom you shouldn't have," I tell her, more for my sake than hers. "Jace and Mark need you more than I do. I could've just called one of my friends from school and had them come pick me up."

"Oh." My mother nods and flips a pancake, coming across downcast. Now I feel bad because she is trying to pull a guilt trip on me. I resist the temptation to tell her it's okay, I can't risk getting close to her.

The rest of breakfast goes by quietly, as does the ride to school. We pass by our wrecked SUV and the whole front end is almost wrapped around the tree, but all in all it doesn't look that bad. Actually what I mean is it could've been worse.

School is an entirely different story from the peaceful car ride. All car accident victims except Edward Cullen receive rapt attention. It is like the day everyone found out my dad is a "millionaire" only worse. People ask Bella and me over and over again what happened during our accidents. Bella's explanation is simple, Tyler's car slid, she was in the way, Edward, who was standing next to her the whole time pushed her out of the way and saved her. Again, the apparent hero of the story does not obtain anybody's interest. My story is a little more complicated. I mean sure telling them that Jace hadn't paid attention to the road and smashed into a tree was fine, but how am I supposed to say that Jasper Hale magically appeared out of the woods and saved the day by calling 911? I can't. At least without sounding crazy or betraying Jasper's trust. So I say that I had my cell phone on me and called 911 and that was the end of it. It makes it sound so much lamer than it actually was.

During lunch, it appears that Bella has successfully recruited another person to follow her around. The boy, whose name is Tyler, sits at our table rather nonchalantly, though it earns him glares from Eric and Mike. I feel kind of bad for Bella; it's obvious she doesn't want the attention.

In other news, no one at the Cullen table glances our way. They just sit and talk to themselves. It frustrates me. Isn't Jasper concerned that I'm going to tell everybody that he just randomly walked out of the middle of the deep woods and rescued me? In street clothes nonetheless, not something you'd use for walking, jogging, or hiking. I wait almost the whole lunch period for at least one of them to look our way, but I get nothing. Finally I decide to take matters into my own hands. I get up ten minutes early to go to class. Instead of taking my normal route I plan to pass by the Cullen table and get Jasper's attention. Talking to him about what happened yesterday before class is better than not talking about it at all. As I approach his table he looks up. I give him a knowing expression and wave my left hand in a motion to follow me, which is difficult with crutches. Then I keep moving as though nothing has happened.

The whole way to the psychology room I don't know if he's trailing me or not. If he is good, if he's not, well hopefully when he comes on time the whole class doesn't hear our conversation. I slip awkwardly through the classroom door and don't look back until I'm in my seat. He's there of course, standing in the doorway like a supermodel. I smile and pat the desk behind me. He looks like he's analyzing me and flicks on the lights before he glides over and sits behind me.

"Hi," I say, trying to be friendly. I'm not here to chew him out. I just want to know what's going on.

He doesn't respond, of course, so I look down at his hands. They're strong hands, like ones you'd see on a farmer, minus the calluses. Though, there are strange little lines that almost look like human bite marks. They're easiest to see when he moves his hands in the light.

"So," I sigh, "I want to know what you were doing in the woods yesterday. And don't tell me you we're just strolling through them for fun. You had less than an hour until school started, and there's no way that was anywhere near your house."

"I don't need to tell you anything," he smirks.

"Why not?" I ask, he's being a jerk right now.

"Because, you'll tell your friends. I can't let that happen," he states darkly, and I recall in my dream how he said he might kill me.

"Well, let's see," I retort, does he really think I'd rat him out when that's obviously what he doesn't want? That's not what a friend does. "I have told everybody who has asked me anything about the accident that I called 911 by myself. I didn't tell them that I saw you, that you called the emergency services, or that you apparently heard me tell you to stay with me. I think you owe me an explanation."

"I didn't hear you say anything," he states frigidly. "I was too far away. I just stayed to make sure the ambulance actually made it to you without crashing as well."

"That's another thing," I comment, "What do you have against being so close to me? This," I motion to my current position reclining exactly a desk length away from him, "doesn't seem to bug you as much as this." I lean towards him until I'm only a few inches from his face. He instantly backs up, moving the desk with him. It shrieks as he moves it across the linoleum floor.

"Don't do that," he growls we both shift back into our original positions.

"Why? What aren't you telling me? There better be a good reason why I'm covering for you." He says nothing.

"You know," I threaten, "I could just go and tell everybody everything."

The corners of his lips jerk, though he holds back the expression.

"You wouldn't do that."

"Why not?" I counter. I could certainly tell everybody that there was more to the Cullens and Hales than they thought.

"Because you are a good person. You wouldn't risk exposing my family just for your own gain." I'm shocked at this comment.

"How do you know that?" I try to retain control over, the conversation, but that's not happening. He knows something about me, and I don't know how he got the information. It makes me nervous.

He smiles; he understands that he has the upper hand now.

"I'll keep that to myself," he's toying with me. I'm not a threat anymore; he can tell I won't be giving out any information about him or his family any time soon.

I turn around in a huff. I'm losing the game of cat and mouse that we're so evidently playing. I'm not even sure who the cat is and who the mouse is anymore. I decide to throw him for a whirl.

"You know," I say even though I'm facing forward. "I had a dream about you last night. You said you might kill me."

A quick peep over my shoulder shows me that he's gone rigid. The comment clearly bothers him.

* * *

><p>After school my mom picks me up and drives me to the hospital to visit my brothers. Mark has to stay one more night to make the concussion has fully gone away. Jace has woken up and has asked for me a couple times, though Mom says they have him on some sedatives and painkillers to keep him from feeling too much pain.<p>

Upon our arrival we are greeted by the good-looking Dr. Cullen, who is glad to see I have adjusted to using crutches. He says Jace has been waiting up for me and that Mark wants to see my mother again. I encourage Mom to go visit Mark and ask Dr. Cullen to take me to Jace. He obliges.

"So," I inform Dr. Cullen as we head to Jace's room, "Did you know that your son was a hero in yesterday's events?"

"Yes, I know Edward pushed Bella out of the way-" he starts.

"No," I cut him off, "Not Edward. Jasper."

Dr. Cullen's lips pull into a tight line and his brow furrows slightly. Clearly, Jasper had not bothered to tell anyone he was involved in yesterday's incident.

"No, I didn't know that."

"Well he was there, just not quite as implicated as Edward. He was the one who called the emergency services. I didn't have my cell phone on me. In fact, my cell phone was in the back seat, so there was no possible way for me to call. There were no other cars around either." I hint that something fishy is going on.

"Oh, well that was nice of him."

"Yeah, but that's not the intriguing part. Does your son go for strolls in the deep woods often Dr. Cullen?" I inquire.

"Frequently," he responds defensively, "Why do you ask?"

"Because, Jasper walked out of the deep woods in street clothes with his cell phone to call 911."

"Hmm, that sounds like something he would do. Hardly strange though." The good doctor is bluffing now. It unmistakably disturbs him that I know this.

"I never said it was strange Dr. Cullen, just intriguing." I smile a mystery smile, one that says I know more than you think.

"Okay," Dr. Cullen eyes me warily. "This is your brother's room. Have a nice day Miss Monarch."

"You too, Dr. Cullen." I lean up against the doorway to support my bodyweight and wave good bye. Then I enter Jace's room.

Jace is hooked up to at least three or four machines, and I am surprised that his whole body is not wrapped up in bandages. I'd say currently at least one half if not ¾ of it is.

When I crutch in, Jace smiles. You can tell the movement hurts him though, because in the next second he's wincing in pain.

"Hey, gimpy" he croaks, "Long time no walk?"

I roll my eyes; of course Jace is going to make fun of me, even if he is bed ridden. His voice kind of freaks me out though. It is very throaty and almost scratchy sounding. Then again, I suppose that's what happens with a punctured lung and broken nose.

"Well you are looking pretty good yourself, are you trying to start a new robotic trend?" I shoot back, pointing to all the apparatus that's monitoring him. I sit down in a chair across from his bed.

"You know Liz," he interjects as I lean my crutches up against the wall, "You can come sit next to me. I don't bite like those monsters in our bedrooms." He grins and I sigh and at turtle speed relocate myself next to him.

"I doubt you could bite me even if you wanted to," I mutter as I amend my position in the seat to be more comfortable. I end up wincing when I put too much pressure on my bad leg.

"Hurt your kicking leg did you?" he's now observing me with more brotherly concern.

"Yep, but the doctors and nurses said it should be back to normal in a month or two. Plus it's not like there's anywhere to play soccer in this Podunk town anyway." He smiles at my poorly concealed distaste for Forks. Just because I try to bear it doesn't mean I have to like it.

"FYI, Jace," I remark, "You should stop smiling, I see you wince when you do. I don't want to put you in anymore pain."

He rolls his eyes at me now, an effective movement, seeing as it doesn't cause him any discomfort.

"What? I'm honestly afraid that if I poke you you're going to go into cardiac arrest or something."

"Yeah, right," he snorts. "Here," he offers me his hand "You can hold it and I won't go into cardiac arrest."

I eye his hand suspiciously. I'm openly going to freak out if anything goes wrong while I'm in the room.

"Come on Lizzie," he taunts, "Are you chicken?"

After a minute or two of deliberation, I reluctantly agree.

"Fine."

I slowly reach out and grasp his hand. He convulses as soon as I get a grip and I yelp and almost fall out of my seat.

Then Jace starts laughing his ass off.

"You should've have seen your face," he chuckles, "That was priceless."

"Jonathan Matthew Monarch," I shrill, "That is so not funny."

"Oh yes it was," Jace retorts and continues chuckling. It's an odd airy sound he makes when he's laughing. I don't think he has time to wince in between laughs. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Well," I grumble, though it's a bit breathy, "I would say I'm going to get you back, but I think that deer handled this situation nicely."

All of a sudden a nurse bustles in.

"Are you alright?" she questions Jace, looking at the machine that I suppose monitors his heart.

"Yes," he replies, still chuckling.

Then the lady turns her attention to me. I recognize her as one of the nurses who helped with my leg yesterday. Nurse Conway, I believe.

"Elizabeth, dear," apparently she recognizes me too, "I think it's time we let your brother get some rest."

I nod and start carefully getting up, teasing Jace along the way.

"See Jace now look what you've done." The nurse looks rapidly from me to Jace when I say this, having no idea what is going on. Then she ushers me out of the room.

"Love you bro," I throw back over my shoulder.

"Love you baby sister," he attempts a cooing voice but it comes out sounding terrible.

"Idiot," I mumble under my breath. I love Jace to death, but is the incessant teasing really necessary?

The visit with Mark is much quicker and soon my mother and I leave for home. All in all it was an interesting day.

* * *

><p>The next day goes by rather typically. I wake up; go to school hang out with friends. The Cullens don't look at us again, and Jasper doesn't talk to me in Psychology. I hypothesize that he is trying to ignore me. Coach Clapp reminds us that our projects are due Monday, and I have a free pass to do nothing in gym. Then Mom comes to pick me up again. She suggests we go visit Jace and Mark again.<p>

"Not today Mom," I object. "I love them both to death, but I still have to do some catching up on homework."

Unexpectedly, my mother agrees and we go straight home. I am surprised when I see the Ferrari in the driveway. It's the car my dad's company bought for him. Why? I don't know. All I can comprehend is that we're going to need a replacement for the SUV and the fact that my dad is home. The latter excites me a great deal.

I get out of the car as quickly as possible and speed crutch up to the door. I nimbly (well what I now consider nimbly) flick down the door handle and open the door. I catch a glimpse of my mom smiling; she knows why I'm excited.

"Daddy?" I call and the sound echoes through the big house.

"Lizzie?" he stalks out of the kitchen, and when he sees me his smile is blinding.

"Sweetheart," He comes and hugs, somehow managing to pick me up and twirl me around. "It's good to see you."

"You too Dad," I giggle as he sets me down and picks up my crutches for me. Then a little head of brown hair peeks around the corner.

"Mark?" I question. The head evolves in my little brother who comes to hug my waist

"Hi Lizzie," he says with a toothy grin.

"Hi sport, how's your head?"

"It's fine." He knocks on it with his fist to prove his point. Then my mom comes in.

"Mom!" my little brother's focus totally switches to my mother.

"Mark, you're home!" she picks up Mark and swings him around like my father swung me. Then he leads her away, leaving me alone with my dad.

"Have you seen Jace yet?" I ask my dad as I start moving towards the kitchen. I intend to devour a large snack and then spend the rest of the night catching up on homework.

"Yep," my father nods. "He's in big trouble."

"I wouldn't punish him too much dad. He's already gotten more than he deserves. I would've reacted the same way he had at the time." I try to lighten Jace's load.

"We'll see," my father responds. "So how's school been?"

"It's been fine," I reply. If I mention Jasper my father will tease me that he's my boyfriend, which he most certainly is not.

"Jace told me you have a new boyfriend, Jasper Hale?" Or I could just leave to Jace to tell my father every aspect about my life.

"Jazz," the nickname rolls over my tongue before I can stop it, "Is not my boyfriend. He's a person of interest in a current investigation."

"An investigation of what?" My father questions as I pull out a bowl of cereal. The cereal will serve as a satisfactory snack.

"Himself," I smile and laugh at how funny that sounds, "He's a very different, intriguing boy, but he'd never consider having me is a girlfriend." My grin transforms into a frown at my own words. "But he's a possible future friend, if I can just figure out why he's so different."

"Well what's so different about him?" My father thinks he has an explanation for everything, but I doubted he will have an explanation for Jasper.

"Oh nothing important," I lie.

"Hmm, well if he doesn't guard his secrets well, you'll have him talking in no time," my father laughs. "You just look so innocent I doubt anybody could resist you."

"Right," I reply sarcastically. Then our conversation turns towards other things, particularly the fact that my father will be staying home for the rest of the weekend which is totally awesome. He also tells me that our shopping trip is still on, though he jokes that he'll probably end up pushing me around in a wheel chair. I go and do my best to catch up on homework. Then the evening ends on the light note with all of us gathered around the new TV my dad brought home, watching _America's Got Talent_.

* * *

><p>The next day at the end of Psychology class Jasper Hale throws me for a loop.<p>

"So we're still on at your house tonight?"

I nod without thinking, because my mind isn't focused on him, it's concentrating on the weekend with my dad. Then when I realize what I've done an hour later at the end of gym class, I slap my head, hard. I'm such an idiot sometimes.

Tonight is going to be very interesting. I'm not sure how my family will react to Jasper Hale.


	6. Hopping

**A/N Okay, so first off thank you so much to Bre-Flower94 for the spectacular review! Reviews like that excite me so much I just have to keep writing. Secondly, the companion story may or may not be happening depending on feedback. It also depends on school, which will be starting soon. Speaking of which, I'd like to remind you that chapters may not be coming out as often as you or I would like starting August 24****th****. Finally, as much as I wish I did, I do not own anything from **_**Twilight**_**. Oh, and also I've never actually been subjected to a psychological test by a partner so, just bare with me. **

My father comes and picks me up after gym class. I stay silent the whole ride home, contemplating how to deal with the situation. My father is going to be irritated that I have a boy in the house, even if he is my partner for a project. My dad is the kind of father that says the first boyfriend I bring home is going to get knocked over the head with a shovel and told to get out of our house.

My father notices my silence, because normally when I'm around him I'm talking my head off. As we enter our driveway he asks me what's wrong.

"Oh, nothing," I reply. I'm not sure how well he's going to take the news, and I don't know when the best time to tell him will be.

"Well, nothing has got you to quiet down," he looks at me knowingly as he parks the Ferrari, which caused a lot of trouble at school. Everyone stared me down as I got into my dad's car. Thank God they'll have the weekend to forget about it.

"Yep it has," I murmur to myself. Then suddenly I get an idea that brightens my prospects.

"Hey Dad," I say as I grab my crutches out of the back seat and he snatches my book bag on the other side. "Is our phone number and address in the phone book yet?"

"No," my dad responds. "Why?"

"No reason." Though I smile to myself. If my address isn't in the phone book, then Jasper Hale won't be able to get to my house. Then tomorrow, I can call him and we could just work at his place tomorrow or something.

"Does that no reason have something to do with the nothing you mention early?" My father knows me like the back of his hand.

"Yes, the no reason and the nothing have everything to do with each other."

My dad looks at me expectantly, and I look back innocently as we walk/crutch to the house.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head and then enters the house. I sigh. I normally don't keep things from my father, but I think both Jasper and I are safer if he doesn't know anything.

I crutch into the house just moments after my father does and head upstairs to my room. Stairs are the worst part about having a bum leg. They are almost impossible to climb without wincing once or twice because of too much pressure on the bad leg. Eventually, I finish climbing the stairs and go to my bedroom, which still solely consists of a mattress and a lamp. My laptop rests next to the mattress. I can't wait to decorate this place. I'm trying to decide if I want bright colors that pop, or possibly something more romantic and maybe slightly dreary. I suppose I'll have to wait until we actually go shopping, which probably won't be this weekend because of the accident. Another week with just a mattress, lovely.

In the end I plop down on my mattress and begin typing about Shane some more. I'm not really sure where I'm taking him quite yet. The last main event that happened was that he met Carrie, a girl who has taken an interest in him at his new high school in New York. Carrie is currently pestering him and he doesn't know how to respond, but he does know she can tell there's something different about him. I really want to make the story a romance, but I don't know how without killing Carrie. I like Carrie. She reminds me of me. And, I won't deny it, it seems like this story is chronicling my experience with Jasper Hale. Carrie and Shane's literature teacher just assigned them a project to work on together. Sound familiar?

After about three pages worth of typing there's a knock on my door.

"Lizzie, are you in there?" my mother calls urgently.

I close my laptop before replying. I don't need my mother to catch a glimpse of my writing. I prefer to keep it to myself.

"Yes, Mom, come on in."

She steps in quickly and looks me over. She sees the laptop.

"Oh, you were writing," she observes.

"Yes Mom, what else would I be doing?"

"Nothing," she says and then tells me why she came for a visit. "There's a boy with a southern accent on the phone downstairs. He says he needs to talk to you about a project for school?" She questions the last part. Normally, I pick a girl for a partner, and as I previously mentioned, I have no idea how my family will react to Jasper.

"Oh, okay," I say nonchalantly. I try to make it seem like nothing, though inside I'm wondering how in the world Jasper Hale got my home phone number.

"Lizzie," Mom says as I get up, "I hope this isn't an infatuation or something of the sort. You know when I was young-"

"And you lived in Detroit, yada yada yada," I cut her off. I don't need a psycho lecture right now. "Where's the phone Mom?"

"On the kitchen counter, by the stove," she replies.

"Thank you mother," I mumble as I pass her by, hopping on one foot. I hope that hopping is faster than crutching around, because if my time estimate is correct, Jasper has been waiting for over five minutes.

I arrive in the kitchen in about two minutes, which is a record with my hurt leg. The phone is on the counter where my mother said it would be.

"Hello?" I ask breathlessly.

"Elizabeth," Jazz's cool voice greets me. "Are we still working together this evening?"

"Okay, well first off you can stop calling me Elizabeth," I say realizing I haven't mentioned my nickname to him. "You can call me Lizzie, or Liz if you prefer. Secondly, I don't know." I peek up from the swirlie marble counter and glance around for my dad.

"My dad came home early this weekend because of the incident Tuesday. He isn't exactly fond of me being with a male friend that he doesn't really know, even if my father himself is in the vicinity. Maybe we could meet at your house tomorrow?"

"That wouldn't be possible," he replies softly. "How about Sunday?"

"Umm, I might have something going on then." I'm not sure if our shopping trip for my room is going to occur this weekend.

There's a silence, then he speaks.

"Well I guess that leaves only one option. Do you want to tell your father I'm coming over this evening, or shall I?" he questions.

"I don't think you'd be able to contact my father," I note. "You don't have his phone number, and I'm not letting anyone near this phone. I'm still not even sure how you got this phone number."

"Oh trust me," I can practically see Jasper grinning. "I can be very persuasive. Just ask Mrs. Cope."

I gasp. I though that information was private.

"So," he drawls. "Either I can go extort more info from Mrs. Cope, or you can tell your father I'm coming and tell me your address."

"Bastard." I mutter under my breath and I hear him chuckle as I set the phone down to get my father.

"Dad!" my voice rings through the mansion, and seconds later my father appears in the doorway. He looks frazzled and worried.

"Are you alright?" he asks, scanning my figure.

"No Dad," I reply sarcastically. Then I lean back against the counter and put my hand to my head like I'm fatigued. "I've fallen and I can't get up." A rambunctious grin decorates my face before it falls into nervousness. "Actually I've got a question." I try my best to make puppy dog eyes. "I have a project in Psychology and my partner wants to come over-"

"Oh that's fine," my father interjects and starts to walk away.

"My partner is a boy," I warn. My father stops dead in his tracks and turns back around to face me.

"A boy?" he asks.

"Yep." I pop the p.

"Oh well," my father is actually briefly confused. "What's his name?"

"Jasper Hale."

"Isn't he?" my father doesn't even finish the sentence.

"Yeah. He's on the phone right now, actually. He probably just heard our whole conversation."

"Oh," more dismay from my father and then, "Can I talk to him?"

"Hold on," I say to my father, holding up my index finger for him to wait. Then I whip the phone up to my ear.

"Hey my Dad wants to talk to you," I tell Jazz. "Is that okay?"

I wouldn't be surprised if Jasper hung up the phone from boredom but he replies.

"Sure."

I hold the telephone out to my father, who strides over and takes it. I expect him to start drilling Jasper with questions but instead he just sits there. I can just barely hear Jasper's smooth voice coming through the receiver. I can't tell what he's saying, but eventually at the end of the one-sided conversation my Dad tells Jasper our address and the hangs up the phone.

"Nice kid," he praises Jazz and begins to go head back to wherever he was before I called him. "He says he'll be here at five."

"Okay, thanks Daddy." I smile as my father exits and then awkwardly skip back to my room for crutches. The clock on my laptop says 4:00 p.m. I have an hour before Jasper arrives. There's nothing I can do to spiff up our relatively empty house, so I decide to review the questions we have to ask our partners. They're actually fairly easy questions, though they sound like they're from one of those email chain letters. The whole sheet actually looked similar to this:

_Partner Analysis Project_

_1. What's your favorite color?_

_2. Are you afraid of anything? If so what?_

_3. How many friends do you have?_

_4. Describe yourself in one word._

_5. What's your favorite type of weather?_

_6. Do you like music? What type?_

_7. What sports do you play?_

_8. What hobbies do you have?_

_9. How is your relationship with your family?_

_10. What job do you plan to have in the future?_

_11. Are you interested to see what your partner writes about you?_

_12. Come up with your own question for your partner._

Most of the questions are pretty self explanatory, and I doubt I'm even going to need to pay attention to Jasper's movements to get a page paper on this but, it should be interesting nonetheless.

* * *

><p>Promptly at five o'clock the doorbell rings.<p>

"Someone get the door!" I yell from the kitchen table, where I have conveniently positioned my self for the interview. The next thing I know, a pack of elephants is stampeding to the front of the house.

"Okay then," I mutter. I thought I made it clear that this wasn't a big deal. Lord forbid my family swarm poor Jasper and scare him away.

But as Jasper enters the kitchen I find out that is exactly what they have done. My mother and brother are flanking Jasper's sides and my father is eyeing him warily a few steps back. Jazz is not oblivious to the fact, and he is actually smiling a little at my family's ridiculousness. Of course, he looks like a supermodel the whole time, dazzling my family with his looks.

I look at my loved ones like they're crazy and then say, "Okay guys, you can go now. Jazz is only going to be here for like thirty minutes, so shoo!" I pretend my hands are brooms and make a sweeping motion towards the door. They get the idea and scatter, though my father dawdles longer than the other two. I have to meet his gaze before he'll leave.

In one smooth motion Jazz takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. He's gazing at me intently and I feel really vulnerable again. Ugh. He needs to stop doing that.

"Hello, Lizzie," he says simply. I meekly smile back. Sometimes I don't pay attention to how good he looks, but other times, like now, he just blows me away.

"Hi," I reply.

"Ready to start?" he asks.

"Sure," I say. "Do you need anything to record my reactions?"

"No, I've got a pretty good memory," he replies. He's still thinks he has the upper hand in our "relationship" so he's acting a bit smug right now. Let's see how badly I can bamboozle him.

"Oh, right, I suppose that's another one of the bizarre things you can do," I agree. He smiles tightly at me.

"Shall I go first?" he asks politely.

"Ask away," I respond.

"What's your favorite color?" he questions me.

"Hot pink. But that really isn't much of a personality indicator for me. My old friends said I'm somewhat of an orangish-red. I'm afraid of spiders and really tall heights, though I can ride roller coasters with no problem. The third question, I believe, is how many friends I have, and the flat out answer is I don't know." He raises and eyebrow at me, and I do the same to challenge him. "And you say you have a good memory." I smile.

"Hmm," he smiles back, and it looks like he wants to laugh. "What's the fourth question?"

"Um, I think it is my favorite type of weather, right?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Try describe yourself in one word."

"Oh, then it's what my favorite type of weather is," I correct myself. "I would describe myself as o-d-d." I spell out odd. It's funny when you do that to people and they think it's a disorder. "And my favorite weather is overcast, and sometimes rainy."

"Are you going to continue?" he asks when I stop.

"No," I chime, "I think I'll be a lady and let you ask me the rest."

I get another raised eyebrow before he continues.

"What's your favorite type of music?"

"I don't have a favorite type. Anything that has a decent beat and isn't ridiculously slow I'll listen to."

"Sports and hobbies?" the words sound different coming off his tongue, like he doesn't speak so brusquely all the time.

"I play soccer. I like to read, write, and listen to music."

"How is your relationship with your family?"

The question stops me cold as it prods one of the sore spots in my life.

"Interesting," it's my turn to be brusque.

"Care to elaborate?"

"No," I state coldly. Jazz looks surprised at my change of attitude. "Next question."

"What type of job would you like to have in the future?"

"It changes on a day to day basis. The main ones have been lawyer, engineer, pharmacist, and federal agent."

"Are you interested about what I write about you?"

"Very," I say truthfully. I want to know what Jasper Hale thinks of me. I brace myself for the final question.

"Do you feel that no one understands you?"

My mouth opens and then closes; did he really just ask that? I can't help but looking surprised.

"Well?" he demands.

"Yes," I whisper. Jasper Hale still has the upper hand.

* * *

><p>Two hours after Jasper leaves I'm lying on the mattress in my room looking at the ceiling. I'm slightly frustrated with myself for snapping on question nine. I'm also irritated with Jasper Hale for the last question. Of course I don't think anyone understands me. It's not like I have someone to spill my guts to. Actually, if I did spill my guts it'd probably be a natural disaster. Simply, put there are things I'd rather not have other people know.<p>

And somehow Jasper Hale knew that.

I sigh and go to review my notes on his interview. They're not very informative, I swear Jazz is like a Russian spy when you ask him about something he doesn't want you to know. He just sits there and stares you down. It's disconcerting. He'd probably even throw professional investigators for a loop.

_Partner Analysis Project_

_1. What's your favorite color? None_

_2. Are you afraid of anything? If so what? Nothing_

_3. How many friends do you have? Subject smiles tightly and says "Interesting question."_

_4. Describe yourself in one word. Atypical_

_5. What's your favorite type of weather? Overcast. Not Rainy_

_6. Do you like music? What type? Country_

_7. What sports do you play? None_

_8. What hobbies do you have? Reading, Studying_

_9. How is your relationship with your family? Good_

_10. What job do you plan to have in the future? Subjects smiles to self "Professional student."_

_11. Are you interested to see what your partner writes about you? "Yes, actually."_

_12. (Come up with your own question for your partner.) What do you have to hide that makes you so aloof from the rest of society? Subject gives me a dark look. "Everything."_


	7. Crazy Cat Lady

**A/N Okay, so I'm currently buried in a pile of psychology books. I'm sooooo sorry I haven't updated since the summer. I didn't realize how crazy junior year was going to be, and taking three honors classes and one AP class isn't helping. Anyway, thanks to Dalonega Noquisi and KristyElla for the reviews. I hope this was worth the wait. **

I spend the whole weekend attempting to figure out how to write my partner analysis. Jasper barely gave any useable information about himself. Eventually, at ten p.m. Sunday night I write up an analysis that sounds halfway decent without making Jasper sound totally uninteresting or just flat out strange. I use a little creative license and leave out the last question, because I have a feeling that Jasper would prefer for no one else to know about his answer.

Monday comes, and every hour up until lunch passes by quickly. I smile to myself when I realize I am getting accustomed to Forks, then scowl when that instantly leads to my unsolved mystery. I glance over at the Cullen table, and, unsurprisingly, everyone is behaving normally. I just stare, waiting for him to turn his head my way, but he never does. Of course, after a minute or two Jessica notices.

"Lizzie, why are you staring at the Cullens?" she asks, her tone implying that I may be going off the deep end.

"No reason," I sigh to myself, returning my gaze to the slice of pizza on my lunch tray. I get a glimpse of Bella looking at me questioningly, and I smile.

"Nothing to report, Bella," I mutter, my grin widening. She blushes and begins prodding at the mass on her tray. It is nice to know that someone else feels the same way- or at least has the same suspicions I do about the Cullens. Jess watches our exchange with a bemused expression. Then she shakes her head at us when it stops so abruptly.

"You two are weird," she states simply, glancing back and forth between us. We both smirk at her perplexity.

"Either that or we're normal and you're weird," I retort calmly, taking a bite of the pizza.

"Whatever," Jessica blows the comment off with and eye roll. Then she delves into another topic. "Will you two be coming to La Push with us once the weather gets nicer?"

"La Push?" I inquire, thinking of all the cheesy jokes that could be made with that name.

"Yeah," Jess says, "It's an Indian reservation. We generally go surfing and have a bonfire and stuff like that."

"I'm game," I say, understanding that my father will be pleased with my assimilation. "Though someone is going to have to teach me how to surf. How about you, Bella?"

"I'll come," she says, pointing her fork at me "but I'm not surfing."

"Sweet!" Mike, an unknown participant in our conversation interjects. "This is gonna be awesome!"

Bella and I look at him like he's an idiot. Jessica smiles.

"I know right," she chuckles nervously. "I thought they weren't gonna come."

Soon, everyone at the table is involved in planning for our trip to La Push. I silently wonder how long it will be until we can actually go. The weather in Forks is nasty, and I would prefer to go to a beach where it isn't raining.

* * *

><p>I leave lunch early; it is amazing how a pair of crutches can slow you down. When I arrive at the classroom I sit down and reread my analysis. I get annoyed when I discover I've forgotten a comma in an obvious place, but otherwise, considering the lack of information, the essay isn't that bad. I start to reread it again (a bad habit from writing so many stories) when the bell rings. I finish when the bell sounds a second time and all the other students scurry to their seats. I hear the desk behind me shift as Jasper carelessly slips in.<p>

"Okay," Coach Clapp's voice booms. "I assume everyone has their assignment completed and ready to turn in."

The majority of the students who have the assignment out on their desk nod. Two boys in the front corner of the room are viciously scribbling away in their notebooks. Coach Clapp eyes them for a second, and then continues.

"So, before you turn your work in, I want you to give your essay to your colleague and let them read it. Afterwards, we'll have a poll and see how many people's studies of their partner were accurate."

I snatch my paper off my desk and pass it off to Jazz's waiting hand. In return, he gives me his paper. Even thought I attempt to make eye contact with him, his golden eyes don't even offer a glance toward my brown ones. I sigh and delve into the paper.

Ten minutes later I'm staring incredulously at Jasper Hale as he finishes perusing my paper with his golden eyes. His paper about me is not what I expected. I predicted that it would be the flat out truth about everything I said at our interview, and possibly a hint of annoyance at how nosy I am. However, instead, he's clearly used a bit of creative license, and it barely reveals anything about what I'm really like. An excellent example would be how my favorite color is now lime green, indicating that I like exotic things and that I am easily distracted from daily tasks. Also, apparently my relationship with my family is "amazing," and we go on vacations to different parts of the United States every summer (and this has inspired my love of _photography_). He finishes his check of my paper and then meets my gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"I like golf?" he intones, his expression amused yet serious at the same time.

"Yep," I reply, "And you also plan to become a member of the CIA and interrogate Russian spies when you're older. Or they could interrogate you. Either way would work." I smile and start laughing as he shakes his head at my story. The CIA part is in the paper, but the Russian spies aren't.

"Anyway, how did your question for me become 'How do you sleep?' and how did the answer become 'On my stomach'? What is that supposed to indicate?" I ask. "I mean, I used a little creativity in writing this paper too but…" I drift off.

"I figured you would prefer that others didn't know what you're really like, and I assumed you'd do the same for me. The only difference between us is that my secrets are far worse than yours." He somberly responds.

I eye him curiously, as if I can pick the answers off his face. He's still as hard to decipher as hieroglyphics without the Rosetta Stone, but, for some reason, I feel like he trusts me.

When Coach Clapp asks if the papers our partner wrote about us were accurate, Jazz and I both raise our hands.

* * *

><p>Jasper does not appear in my line of vision for the rest of the school week. He returns the subsequent Monday, but he has put his aloof, uncaring mask on again. Later that week I try once, awkwardly, to start up a conversation in Psychology, but to no avail. The following week I start to become upset whenever I think of him. He refuses to talk to me, and avoids me like a cat and a swimming pool. Bella's mood reflects my own, semi-content, but with shadows lingering in the back of her mind. We talk often when Jess isn't around, and I feel like we understand each other fairly well, though not completely.<p>

Friday, Bella agrees to drive me to the hospital and visit with Jace. He is going to be released approximately the same time I come to get my knee evaluated, which is less than two weeks away.

Jace cracks a grin at me when I walk in, and I realize how unhappy my social butterfly of a brother is at the hospital. The previous weeks he had multiple visitors and a lot of get well soon cards, but now that everything has died down, he's becoming morose from lack of contact. I make a note to myself to attempt to visit him more often.

"Who's this?" he asks as Bella walks in behind me.

"Jace this is Bella. Bella, Jace," I make all the proper hand motions during the introduction.

"It's nice to meet you Bella," Jace says. Then he adds, "I thought Lizzie was going to become a crazy cat lady if she didn't make friends here soon."

Bella raises her eyebrows at me and begins to speak, but I cut her off.

"He's had a little too much morphine lately," I shrug my shoulders. "We'll probably have to bring home a couple cases just to keep him sane. Plus he's allergic to flowers," I motion to the bouquets around his bed, "That's why he talks funny."

Jace's eyes narrow at me, and I crack a smile.

"If you touch him he has a seizure," I add nonchalantly. Bella looks at him cautiously, not sure if she should believe me or not.

"Ha-ha, very funny," he retorts in his nasally tone. Then he addresses Bella, "This is why she would become a cat lady."

"Actually," Bella says mildly, "I was going to say that if she became a cat lady we would have become close friends anyway."

"Fluffy and Snowball," I say, naming our imaginary cats.

Bella nods.

"Definitely."

At this point in time Jace does an impeccable impression of Jessica as he questions our sanity. I roll my eyes and shift the conversation toward a more normal route.

"So what's the doctor saying Jace?"

Bella and I sit down, and from there the conversation becomes relatively standard. We talk about each other's health, and how stuff at school has been. I ask him if he's talked to Bekki, which he says he has. Apparently he told her not to waste her money flying out here, that he would be fine and that she needed to focus on school. This led into a conversation about how much homework Jace needed to catch up on. He told that since I had inherited my father's brains I was obligated to help him with it. I told him no. After a few more minutes of banter, he pokes a sore spot.

"So how is your investigation going?" he questions.

"What?" I ask, caught off guard.

"You know, with what's-his-face who happens to be incredibly interesting…"

"Oh right," I instantly shut down. "It's fine."

"It doesn't sound 'fine'," Jace responds.

"Let it lie Jace," I hiss. Jace's expression transfers to worry.

"Is something up Liz?"

"It's none of your business," I retort. "Let it go, Jace."

"Did he do something?" Jace asks protectively, "Because if he—"

"He didn't do anything, Jace, now stop," I'm almost yelling now. Jace is ticking me off.

"Bella, do you know Jasper Hale?" Jace questions. Bella's lips pull into a tight line, because implying Jasper implies Edward.

"It's none of your damn business Jace now shut up." I start to get up. "Come on Bells, we're leaving."

"I'm telling Dad," Jace threatens.

"If you love me, you won't," I tell him as I leave the room.

* * *

><p>An hour later I'm sitting on my mattress typing. Then Carrie dies. I hold the backspace key for about a minute and then start over. She dies again.<p>

I slam the laptop shut as hard as I can without breaking it and drop it by the side of my mattress. Then I bury my face in a plush pillow.

The shadows in my head swarm about. Why does Jasper Hale mean so much to me? Why did I let him get between me and Jace? Why is Jazz being such a jerk? _What is his secret?_

I growl into my pillow and my frustration builds as I cannot answer a single one of those questions. A boy should not be able to do this to me. Why is Jasper so different?

Eventually I pull the pillow off my face and throw it across the room. Then I roughly begin pulling my hands through my hair. The second time through, I accidentally pull too hard, and I wince as a strand or two falls out. I place my hands on my lap and stare at them. Then having vented at least a little amount of my anger I attempt to come up with a reason for my behavior. I finally settle on the following:

Jasper means a lot to me because he is one of the few people I can relate to here in Forks.

Jasper seems like a mystery worth solving, and I dislike it when I cannot figure out what's going on.

Jasper makes me feel insecure, like he can see right through me.

Jasper makes me feels secure because he seems to know me better than anyone else I've ever met.

I trusted Jasper more than I should've, and I thought he trusted me.

I let him get in between Jace and me because of the five reasons above.

I don't know what he's hiding, or why he's being a jerk.

I snatch my computer and type all these in a document that I name '". Then, having a few answers, I calm down and type an apology note to Jace.

_Dear Jace,_

_I'm sorry for snapping at you. I feel absolutely terrible for behaving like that, especially in front of Bella. I know that you have a protective complex, and that you want to know what's going on with your little sister, but I can't tell you. What I need you to do is let me deal with this by myself. I swear I will not let myself get hurt, and in fact, what I'm doing isn't even dangerous, I promise. Another thing I need you to do is get better, because Mark and I need you at home._

_Lizzie_

When I finish the letter I hobble down the hall to what almost resembles an office to print it. Then I hobble back to my room. I decide I am calm enough to start writing my story again.

Carrie dies a third time. I think there's a dent in the backspace button. I really need to start highlighting and then deleting.

* * *

><p>Dad arrives home at noon the next day. I talk with him for a bit about this and that before giving him the letter for Jace. When he asks what it's about, I tell him that Jace and I had a dispute, and that I'm the party at fault. I also politely enquire that he doesn't read it. He agrees, and then leaves the house with Mom and Mark to go see Jace. I am pleased to have the whole house to myself, and just kind of wander the empty halls in order to distract myself. Ultimately, I go to the office and start Googling different ideas for my room. I'm thinking about magenta and navy blue, that way, my room wouldn't be neon colors, but it wouldn't be dreary either.<p>

At some point in time, I hear the door downstairs open and feet plodding in the main entry. A period of time after that my dad opens the door and peers in. He sees me at the computer desk and saunters over to see what I'm doing.

"That's right," he mutters when he sees the picture of a red bedroom that I have brought up on the screen. "We never did get around to that."

I bob my head, and continue my search.

"What did Jace say?"

"He said that he'll call you tonight, but that in short, he forgives your crazy-cat-ladyness."

"Good," I smile in relief.

My dad pulls up the second rolly chair that resides in the room and just watches over my shoulder for a little bit.

"What if we go shop for your room next weekend?" he interjects. "We can also pick up your stuff from the company hotel room. It's been there ever since I brought it here for the move."

"That would be great Dad," I turn around and hug him fervently. "Thanks."

He seems surprised, but then smiles softly and ruffles my hair.

"Anytime, sweetheart, anytime."

After a few more minutes he gets up and exits the room, and I'm left alone to my thoughts. I try to reign them in, but every once in a while a blonde boy with killer looks and golden eyes wanders into my mind.


	8. It's Okay Darlin'

**A/N So, I thought it would be fair for me to inform everybody that I have no idea when I will be updating up until summer. I am hoping I will have some days off where I can write, but quite frankly I get so much homework and I get so tired that it is incredibly hard for me to update. I will update whenever I can. Hopefully you will all keep reading and reviewing. – LostInInk**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ikea, Lowe's Home Depot, The Iron Knight by Julie Kagawa, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs, or The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.**

The following weekend my dad and I are leaving for Seattle. I am nervous about this being my first trip to a really big city, but at the same time I am excited about finally getting to personalize my room. I am also happy to have some quality time with my dad.

We arrive at the company hotel room at about six o'clock Friday evening. It is gigantic, and I tell my father he needs to start calling it a suite instead of a hotel room. It has a Jacuzzi, a walk-in shower, and there's even a bar stocked with little snacks and several bottles of alcoholic beverages. I ask my dad if he has had any parties lately, and he looks at me like I've gone mad. I tell him I'm referencing the bar, and he chuckles lightly, denying any party that may have occurred. Of course, I know my dad well enough to understand that he's telling the truth, but I tease him about it from time to time.

An hour after our arrival my dad tells me to take a shower and pick out a dress from one of the moving boxes. I grumble and ask him why, because I have never seen dresses as the most practical outfit option, and only wear them on special occasions when necessary. He responds that we have dinner reservations at a high-end steakhouse. Although it puts me on edge, I oblige and ask him where the boxes are located. Evidently they have all been stuffed in a closet. I locate the closet and pull out the boxes that say Lizzie's Stuff. After sifting through them for several minutes, I find a little black dress that I wore to my friend Laura's sixteenth birthday party at a country club. It's very simple and it can be worn with almost anything. I temporarily think about wearing it with heels for the sake of elegance, but then decide that heels and crutches don't make a good pair. Instead, I settle on a pair of simple black ballet flats. Then I quickly whisk the dress and shoes away to the bathroom.

When I enter the shower all my troubles melt away as the warm water engulfs my body. I simply stand in it for several minutes before I begin lathering my hair with my favorite shampoo, which smells like oranges. I emerge from my respite approximately thirty minutes later, and begin to speed up the process, because I do not want to be late for the reservations. I throw my hair up in a towel and then pat my face dry before applying the minimal amount of make-up I need to look presentable at a formal restaurant. Then I put on my dress and my shoes, as well as a pair of clip-on earrings. Then I exit the bathroom, crutches and all, to go on the dinner date with my father.

My dad looks very handsome when he exits the bedroom. He sports the simple white button down shirt and black tie look. I smile and tell him that he looks very dapper, and laughs at my use of language. Then he tells me I look beautiful and I contest his opinion, saying that no one can look beautiful in crutches and a knee brace. He laughs again and tells me I pull it off. I shake my head in dissent before we slowly advance to the elevator, and then eventually to the taxi that is waiting in front of the hotel.

The taxi driver is a Spanish-speaking man who is probably in his early forties. He is saying something under his breath in Spanish about how slow we are and that we are running late. My dad apologizes for our lateness in English. The cabby responds a huff, and I get the feeling that his English is as underdeveloped as my dad's Spanish.

We talk a little more on the cab ride, but I spend most of my time gazing out the window at the city. It is highly different than anything I have ever experienced before. There so much hustle and bustle as people weave in and out on the sidewalk. I note that it's probably a good thing that we aren't walking to the steak house, because my crutches and I would have been pushed over. Sometimes there are neon signs, and there are definitely a variety of stores. I decide that from what have seen so far, I like the big city, but I still prefer smaller towns, unless they are dwarf-sized like Forks.

The building we arrive at looks like every other stone building in Seattle except for the sign that names the place. Through the panoramic windows, however, I can see that the inside looks very classy, with white table clothes, napkin rings, and beautiful chandeliers. I sigh, this is not my cup of tea, but I know my dad is trying to have fun with me, so I start sidling my way out of the taxi as my dad pays the cabby.

We walk in to the steakhouse and I begin to sit down in a beautiful chair with red and gold upholstery, but my dad shakes his head no and motions for me to come with him as he approaches the blonde waiter who is in charge of seating. Upon seeing my dad the waiter smiles.

"Ah, Mr. Monarch I'm glad to see you here while you are not working," he continues smiling for an unnaturally long period of time and glances at me. "And this must be your lovely daughter. She has inherited a lot of good traits from you I see," he winks at me creepily with his blue-green eyes and I make a note that a lot of people in this city behave very weirdly. "Table for two then?"

My father nods. "Affirmative."

"Excellent, just follow me please," and the waiter, whose name tag says Mark, saunters off towards the throng of tables to our left.

I eye my dad with a look that simply says, "What the hell?"

We end up in a cozy little corner in the back of the restaurant. It's very private, and so once Mark leaves we order our drinks, I probe my dad with a few questions.

"So do you come here often?" I ask innocently. "Because the staff seems to know you very well."

Dad sighs.

"We come here for business meetings and such. That's why Mark was so quick to lead us to a table. He doesn't want any bad opinions coming back to the company." My dad shakes his head. "Though I will admit that Mark is strange, he's not going to leave us waiting here the whole night."

"Did you actually get a reservation?" I query. "Because it would be unfair if—"

"Yes," my dad interrupts, "We actually have a reservation, though I don't think that would have mattered to Mark. Besides, he's just added another person to his personal VIP list. He's probably ecstatic to have a high-ranking businessman's daughter as one of his customers."

I groan and put my face in my palm just as Mark reappears.

"Is something wrong Miss Monarch?" he inquires anxiously.

"No, I'm fine," I mutter as I remove my hand.

"In that case," he says as he places my Sprite on my table, "What would you like to order?"

My dad and I both make our requests and Mark leaves in a flourish.

"Why," I question once I am positive Mark is out of hearing range, "Couldn't we have just gone to Burger King or something?"

I lower my gaze after I say this, because I'm afraid Dad will be upset, but instead I hear him chortling to himself. I raise my eyes and he is indeed laughing.

"What's so funny?" I demand, raising an eyebrow

He smiles and shakes his head. "I knew you were going to say that."

I cock my head curiously.

"Then why'd you bring me here?"

"Firstly, so Mark would stop suggesting that I should come on free time, and secondly because I thought it might help give you inspiration for your writing," he admits.

I look around and purse my lips. It is beautiful. My dad begins to say something as I'm observing but I put my finger up to his mouth.

"Shh."

I start taking mental notes about all the details of the restaurant, from what the staff is wearing to the grainy texture of the ceiling. I will not remember all of it, but the information may be useful in future stories.

"Okay, you were saying?" I ask as I finish my observations. I rarely have the time to really just sit and admire everything around me. It's always school, writing, soccer, or family. My dad shakes his head but has a knowing look on his face.

"Nothing."

The rest of dinner goes by well. Mark is probably the most annoying waiter I've ever had to deal with, and I tell my dad that I didn't think it was possible that someone who shared his name could ever behave that way. I quickly retract the thought as I remember my little brother.

"Maybe you're the only one with the name Mark who isn't annoying," I suggest, and my father laughs some more.

We head outside to our taxi, and as we leave Mark yells, "Come back soon!"

The hotel suite is waiting for us in its pristine condition. I move groggily towards the bathroom, and when I get there I viciously scrub all the make-up off my face. I'm so exhausted I don't even think about taking my dress off before I plop down in bed and fall soundly asleep.

* * *

><p>The next day Dad lets me sleep in until ten-thirty, and when he tries to wake me, I swat him away. He resorts to tickling my sides until I fall out of bed with a loud thud that probably rouses anyone left dozing on the floor below us. All I can say is that he's lucky I fell on my good leg.<p>

I don't spend much time preparing for the day ahead. I throw on a pair of sweats after showering and call it good.

My dad tells me we'll be walking to a little brunch place that's a block away. I tell him that a girl with crutches will be bowled over by the crowd, but he laughs at me and tells me I'll be fine as long as the newspapers don't see him. I resolve that he was lying about this as we ride down the elevator.

The city looks different in the day walking than it does during the night riding a taxi. It seems drearier and it feels like a landscape of grays and browns. The people offer little dashes of color, but over all I think I favor how it looks at night.

The little diner we go to is cute and less dressed up than the steakhouse we went to the night before. My dad and I both order omelets, and the waitress doesn't make a grandiose affair of it.

Afterwards we head to Ikea, against my father's protests. He believes that we should pick the paint and then accessorize the room. I theorize the opposite, because I already know exactly how I want my room to look. It is going to be magenta and navy blue, and all I need are decorations to go with the theme. Then we can go to Lowe's or Home Depot to get all the hardware and paint.

The traffic is terrible and the city is larger than I estimated. It takes us almost two hours to get to Ikea. Once there, I go crazy looking for everything for my room. I start off with the bedding, choosing a blue polka dot bed spread. From there, I pick several magenta-toned accessories to balance the room out. After that is sorted it out, I pick out a metal bed frame and several shelves that are silver-colored, and I have Dad write down the model numbers so I can order them online and have them shipped to the house. Then we roll up our cart to the check out, and within the next fifteen minutes we're riding the bus back to the hotel.

We drop all the goods off in the suite, and after a mild debate, my dad convinces me that we might as well go to Lowe's and get the paint. This errand takes about three hours, and then my dad and I order pizza for dinner. After dinner, we call it a successful day and we both retire early.

* * *

><p>I dream again, and unsurprisingly, Jasper stars in my dream.<p>

I am standing in a place that is very similar to the steak house my dad and I visited. Every detail is perfect. The golden chandeliers, the grainy pattern of the ceiling, it is all there.

I pace back and forth, peering at the grains of the oaken floor and adjusting the hem of my skirt suit. Then I snap my head up and stare down the man in the suit that is sitting in the upholstered chair. His golden eyes are unwavering, and they bore into my head. I snarl, an almost unearthly sound I didn't know I could make.

"Tell me Hale," I growl, "What are you hiding? What is the secret?"

He smiles at me, and leans closer. I flinch backward, even though he's in handcuffs.

"You don't want to know," he drawls.

I smile tightly.

"Oh really?" I pull out a gun and slam it on the table. "Are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

I stare at his confident smirk, waiting for it to waver, waiting for my chance to pounce. My patience wears thin after about a minute, and I snatch a chair and throw it cross the room. Then I take the gun in my hand.

"You will tell me Mr. Hale."

Jazz eyes the gun in my hand, and then his whole self-confident façade collapses. He looks weary.

"Lizzie," he begs me, using the full effect of his eyes. "Please don't do this."

"Why not?" I scowl. "You've hurt me Mr. Hale, tell me why I shouldn't."

"Lizzie, it's not you, it's me. Let it go before you get hurt," he pleads.

"No," I say. I bring my face within inches of his. "Tell me."

I perceive a slight dinging sound, and all of a sudden Jasper's hands are around my throat, constricting me. I fire my gun but nothing happens. All my previous confidence melts into horror.

"You asked," he says, black eyes glinting.

* * *

><p>I wake up in a cold sweat at eight a.m. Sunday morning. I sit up. I stare at the wall in front of me and ask myself what happened.<p>

He killed me. That's what happened.

I take a deep breath and go to the shower. I sigh and shake my head. After that dream, I probably shouldn't be interested in Jazz anymore, but I know that I won't stop pursuing until I know his secret. I sigh again for good measure.

My dad is lounging on the couch talking on his cell phone when I enter the living area of the suite. I sit down across from him and wait for the conversation to finish.

Eventually he snaps his phone shut, and looks at me. I raise an eyebrow

"Well," he finally says, "It's a good thing we got all the shopping done yesterday. I have to go in to work for a few hours."

"Okay," I reply. "It's no big deal; I'll chill here until you get back."

"Are you sure?" he questions. "You could explore the city a bit. I highly doubt that you won't be able to handle the crowds."

"It's okay Dad," I counter, "I've had enough of the city life for the weekend."

He studies me for a minute, and then seeing my resolve, agrees with me.

"Alright, but here's the key card if you change your opinion and want to go adventuring," he places the rectangular piece of plastic on a glass end table. "Make sure if you do go out that you're back by four."

"Will do," I nod. With that assurance, my dad leaves for work.

* * *

><p>Two hours later I'm bored of staring at a TV screen in the hotel suite. I contemplate what else there is to do, and after coming up with the answer of nothing, I decide that I should probably retract my resolve to stay cooped here for another couple of hours. I snatch a map of the city and a bus schedule as I make my way out of the hotel.<p>

Twenty minutes later I'm riding a bus to a plaza that supposedly has a Barnes & Noble. Fortunately for me, my map reading isn't faulty, and there is a humongous book store waiting for me.

I spend at least an hour and a half perusing the shelves of Barnes & Noble, and am delighted to find several new books to read. Among them is _The Iron Knight_, _Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children_, and _The Book Thief_. The first one is a continuation of _The Iron Queen_, and the other two are books that look strange but promising.

As I move through the checkout line I overhear an odd young couple talking about a store that sells unique books. I figure that since I have time to burn out might as well check the place out, so I flag them down. They are more than delighted to give me directions to the store, and in fact, they offer me a ride over there, telling me that it's a bit of a shifty neighborhood and that I probably shouldn't go by myself. I attempt to decline their offer and ride the bus, but they insist, so I reluctantly agree.

We talk during the whole car ride, mainly about books. The couple is even more obsessed with reading than I am, and when they find out I am an aspiring author, they ask for my autograph, because they believe it will be worth something in ten years. As we talk I notice the deteriorating condition of the neighborhoods we pass through, until I finally decide that we have to be deep in the slums. I start to become nervous, but don't say anything.

I am pleasantly surprised when we pull up to the bookshop. It looks like well-kept compared to the rest of the buildings, though it is rather petite. Inside it smells like musty books, and the couple recommends a section in the shop where I might find something to my taste. Of course, I find several books to my liking in multiple sections. I stroll up to the gray-haired shop keeper and pay for my treasure. Then I search the store for my ride. I'm a bit dumbfounded and upset when I can't find them, so I go talk to the shopkeeper.

"Oh yes," he recalls, "They left about fifteen minutes before you checked out. They figured that you could call a ride."

I scowl and whip out my cell phone. I feel that it's probably safer to deal with Dad's wrath than to walk alone through this neighborhood. I ferociously press the power button until I get a screen that says "Connect to power".

I groan. Could this get any worse?

"Do you have a phone?" I ask the shop keeper hopefully.

"No, sorry dear," he replies, "It's hard enough keeping this place open. We can't afford to pay for land lines."

Evidently he doesn't have a car either, so I do the only thing I can.

"How do you get to the nearest bus stop?" I question.

He gaze flickers up and down over me once.

"I don't think you should be walking through this neighborhood alone, especially if you're hurt," he motions to my crutches.

"Well," I retort calmly, though I'm on the verge of crying inside, "I don't really have any other options do I?"

The man looks at me worriedly, sighs, and pulls out a scrap of paper. He scribbles the directions and then tells them to me once verbally. He wishes me good luck as I leave the store.

A feeling of fear settles around me as I begin my perilous twenty-five minute journey to the bus stop. I am very anxious, and a newspaper blowing down the street nearly causes me to drop my crutches. The scenery seems to be drained of all its color, leaving even more morose gray and browns than in the inner city. It's as if the life has been sucked out of this place.

About half-way through the route the directions say to turn into an alley. I see the alley, but I really don't want to go into it. The shadows seem to engulf the whole thing and their edges seem to ripple with violent delight. I tell myself that I am psyching myself out, but it doesn't help my situation, and eventually I plunge into the backstreet, quaking with fear and asking myself how I could be this stupid

I am about halfway down the alley when I hear a soft thump. I turn my head to see two dark figures straightening up, as though they just jumped from a decent height. They are looking at me. I pick up the pace, and eventually, without even glancing back I drop my crutches and break out into what could be considered a sprint to a person with my disability. It didn't matter though, they caught up with me. Within ten seconds I am brutally slammed up against a wall, a pair of coal black eyes staring into mine. These eyes are paired with short, pale blond hair.

"It's okay darlin'," the boy who greatly reminds me of Jasper says in an undisguised southern accent. "I'll make this quick."

The boy smiles grimly, a then all emotions except lust disappear from his features. I close my eyes.

"Peter!" a voice booms throughout the alleyway. I open my eyes and try to turn my head.

"Jazz?" I ask. I would recognize the voice anywhere, but I can't turn my head to see him.

"Let her go Peter!" Jazz commands. The boy holding me against the wall emits a grisly, inhuman snarl.

"Peter," a young woman's voice echoes Jazz. "Let her go. She means something to Jasper."

Peter sits there for a minute, but the words don't seem to reach him in this state. His lips curl back over his pristine teeth as he starts for my neck.

All of a sudden his weight is gone, and I hear snarls echoing on my right while the girl begs, "Peter! Peter!"

I turn my just in time to see Peter fly into the brick building twenty feet above the ground. He dents the wall, but as soon as he hits the ground, he's back on his feet, wheeling towards Jasper faster than I could possibly imagine.

"Jazz—" the warning barely escapes my mouth before Peter impacts the air where Jazz stood a mere two seconds ago.

Jazz's back is facing me now, and he's clearly in a defensive stance as Peter prepares to launch himself again.

All of a sudden a petite girl with blond hair similar to Peter's comes up and snatches him by the chin. She begins moving her lips frantically, and after a couple of seconds, the lust has been removed from Peter's face, replaced by a look of shame. Peter nods once at Jazz, and then both Peter and the girl run away.

Jazz turns to me. His jaw is set as his golden eyes flicker over me. He looks very disheveled, but no man could compare to how gorgeous he looked at that moment.

"Are you okay?" he asks, though he doesn't seem entirely sure of himself.

I nod, but I can't be entirely sure of myself either.


	9. Deal

**A/N First off I would like to thank Dalonega Noquisi for reviewing so often. You're amazing! Secondly, well, I'm actually surprised that I'm able to finish this and put it online. I think my teachers are easing up on homework. I love reviews, so if you like this story or have some suggestions on how I can improve my writing, reviews would be appreciated. Enjoy!**

"_So what are you?" I asked when I regained my capability to speak. Jasper simply helped me into his Audi, saying nothing._

"_Well at least tell me how you found me," I pleaded. His lips remained pursed together, and though I should have felt afraid after what I had just seen, I was surprisingly comfortable being there with him._

"_Jasper, you can't hide this from me, I will find out. You've already seen how persistent I am," I continued the one-sided conversation. Jazz turned the key in the ignition and wrenched it into drive, his golden eyes focused on the road in front of us. Then he slammed on the gas pedal and started winding through the slums at sixty miles per hour. Then I noticed he wasn't breathing._

"_You don't need to breath?" I questioned. His eyes flickered to me for a fraction of a second, and then he clenched his jaw even tighter, if that was possible. He still ignores me. We slowly settled into an uncomfortable silence. He drove like a maniac. Not even a professional driver could handle the car the way he was handling it._

_Finally, abruptly, Jazz spoke._

"_Where's your hotel?" he asked brusquely._

_I told him the name of place, and hoped he'd start answering my questions, but of course he didn't._

_Jazz dropped me off at the hotel at exactly four o'clock p.m., glowering at everyone as he helped me out of the Audi._

* * *

><p>I grimace as I recall the details of the car ride back to the hotel. It's strange how I can remember everything almost perfectly from the time Peter attacked me to the time Jasper dropped me off at the hotel. It must have something to do with how traumatic it was. I stare at the white ceiling above my mattress, pondering the events that happened over a day ago.<p>

It's Monday night. Jace will be out of the hospital in less than a week. I will finally be able to progress towards walking normally again in less than two days. My dad and I are going to paint my room this weekend. None of this matters to me.

What matters to me is that the Cullens and the Hales weren't in school today. Their table was empty at lunch, and Jasper and Rosalie didn't make an appearance in psychology. Somewhere in the back of mind I wonder if they've disappeared because someone knows that something is definitely very different, and possibly very wrong about them. But that doesn't seem like something they would do. The Cullens and the Hales have been meticulous every time I've seen them. If I was a problem, they would eliminate me, and with what they can do (assuming all their traits are highly similar) that won't be an issue.

When my mom drops me off at school the next day I see the Cullen's cars, the silver Volvo and the black Audi. They're most ostentatious cars in the lot, and I would have to be truly oblivious to not notice that the Cullens and Hales drove them in every day. Their appearance makes me nervous, but I'm also excited. I am finally going to get to the bottom of my mystery.

* * *

><p>The beginning hours of the day tick by slowly as I anticipate seeing the Cullens at lunch. I am not disappointed. All the couples come in separately, as do Jasper and Edward. Each of them observes me differently as they grace by. Rosalie gives me a baleful glare. All the boys except Jasper look at me curiously, trying to pry out the truth from behind my face. Alice, the little one with the spiky hair, smiles at me so stunningly I almost fall out of my seat. Jasper's face is pulled taut with the same painful expression that he had on the first time I saw him. He doesn't make eye contact with me, and barely even glances my way.<p>

"Do the Cullens seem… off to you?" Bella asks me as Jasper takes the last open seat at their table.

"Kind of," I reply as I poke the pile of spaghetti on my plate, biding my time. I don't want to accidentally tell Bella about what happened this weekend. She looks at me as though she expects more of an answer, so I add, "Maybe they're just having a bad day or something."

"I don't know, they seem on edge, and," she pauses uncertainly. "I think they're watching you."

"Well, at least all my stalkers are good looking," I mutter as I viciously stab my fork into my spaghetti. "How are yours?" I ask attempting to change the subject. So far Bella has been asked to the girls' choice dance by both Mike Newton and Tyler Crowley, the kid who almost hit her with his van. She has said no to both of them, and is currently telling everyone she's going to Seattle the weekend of the dance. I have had the honor of being asked to go by Eric Yorkie, who evidently, according to Jessica, is obsessed with me. I told him no, that if couldn't even walk, how was I supposed to dance.

Bella blushes. I grin at her and continue devouring noodles as our lunch table population increases. Eventually Bella and I are dragged into a conversation by Jess.

"So are you going to come dress shopping with us?" Jess twitters excitedly. I also know that Mike and Jess are going to the dance together. Jess is ecstatic.

"Yeah," Angela interjects. "You two should so come with us. It will be awesome."

"I'm not going to the dance," Bella says flatly.

"Isn't it like two or three weeks away anyway?" I buoy Bella's case.

Angela frowns.

"Well yeah, but we should start planning now, so that way all of us can go…"

"And what about La Push," I add a third point. "Are we still going there or what?"

"We're going," Jess affirms. "Just give it a week or so. Maybe you'll actually be able to surf with us if we put it off a little longer." She motions towards my leg.

"Maybe," I shrug.

"Anyway," Angela says, "back to dress shopping. Are you guys coming or not? All you have to do is give your opinions on our dresses."

I sigh and look at Bella.

"Are you game?"

She nods.

"I guess."

"Great," Jess says. "Now it'll be so much more fun. Plus, you'll get to see Port Angeles."

I nod absentmindedly and let the conversation continue without my input. Rixon glances over at me.

* * *

><p>I impatiently crack my fingers as I stand outside in the dreary weather. I know it's a bad habit, but I can't help being nervous. Jazz asked in psychology if he could drive me home so we could "talk" about what happened this weekend. He seemed unhappy about the prospect, but I agreed. It's probably best to get it out of the way as fast as possible, plus, I really want to know what's going on, even if it is somewhat dangerous.<p>

The black Audi pulls up less than two minutes later. Jazz glides out of the passenger seat and helps me load my crutches and my bag into the car. His face remains impassive as he helps me into the car. Then he closes my door and moves quickly back over to the driver's side.

On the way out I notice that all his siblings except Alice, who is beaming again, and Edward, who is missing, are staring at us with dumbfounded expressions.

"How are they getting home?" I ask as we get in line to leave the parking lot.

"Bella passed out in biology, so Edward took her home," he responds. "He'll be back to get her truck and pick everyone else up."

"Why'd Bella pass out?" I ask, though I doubt he has an answer.

"They were blood-typing," a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. I notice he's not exhaling again.

"You're not breathing again," I audibly note. The smirk leaves his face. He turns the wrong way out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" I question.

"We're taking the scenic route," he murmurs.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I inquire teasingly, testing my theory.

He looks at me quickly, and then returns to the road. For the first time since I've known him he full out smiles, even if it is a bit predatory.

"No," he replies, "not yet."

"What do you mean not yet?" I query disbelievingly.

He inhales once but doesn't reply. We settle into silence, and once we reach the outskirts of Forks (which doesn't take very long) he starts accelerating until he hits one hundred miles per hour.

"What if the cops catch you?" I ask nonchalantly, though I'm a bit disconcerted after that last comment.

"The license plate won't ring up anywhere," he says, back in a disinterested tone. I figure this is as good of a starting point as any.

"Which leads us back to the question, what are you?" I muse, allowing a small smile to slip onto my face.

"You don't have any guesses?" he questions. I shake my head.

"None that fit the situation, though if you want I could start listing superheroes for you."

He starts to say something, but then pauses and rethinks it. He starts again.

"_If_ I tell you, you won't tell anyone else?" his accent begins to color his voice again. He only seems to do that when he's stressed.

"Of course I won't, what have I been doing for the past month and a half?"

"If I say supernatural, what do you think of?"

"Gods, heroes, and villains."

"What if I say creatures?"

"Vampires, werewolves, goblins, elves, sphinxes…" I trail off and shrug. "The list goes on."

"One of those five," he states.

"Are you serious?" I raise my eyebrows and look at him incredulously. He stares back seriously, and I realize he truly isn't joking.

"Um, well you're obviously not a sphinx, no tail or wings. Not a goblin, too good looking." I chastise myself when I realize I say it out loud. "You could be an elf… except you don't have pointy ears. That leaves a vampire or a werewolf?" I end with a question.

"The first," he answers.

I remain quiet, reviewing the facts in my head. He's incredibly strong and fast. He holds his breath around me… he's trying not to eat me? That might be why he looks like he's in pain. He is definitely one of the most beautiful boys I have ever seen. His eyes change color, though they're gold instead of what normally is red, black all the time, or pale. He's pale, though I'm not sure how he does with the sun. I shake my head incredulously as this sinks in. There's no way… and yet it all makes sense.

He chuckles, as though he can feel my disbelief.

"So… how likely is it that I'm going to become your lunch?" I know it's tactless, but just so shocked I can't think of what else to say.

"Not likely, unless I lose control of myself. Then you might have a problem," he says evenly staring at the road.

"And this whole impassive thing... is it normal for you?"

He smirks at this.

"No, but this is the best and easiest way for me to react to a stressful situation."

"And I'm stressful?"

"Very."

"Then why don't you just knock me off?"

The smirk stays in place.

"We're supposed to be reformed vampires, I suppose you could say. We try not to kill humans if we can help it."

"Then what do you eat?"

"Animal blood."

"Hmm…" I respond thoughtfully, attempting to find another question. "How long have you been a vampire?"

"150 years, approximately. I was nineteen when I died."

"So like, Civil War Era?"

He nods.

"Were you a soldier?"

"Yes, ma'am," he goes full force with the Southern accent to prove his point. I have to laugh. I love his accent, though now I understand why he doesn't use it full force. It would point him out as different, and it wouldn't go well with their Alaska back story.

The tension slips out of the Audi now. We are both very comfortable, though he still doesn't breath regularly. This leads to another question.

"What do I smell like?"

"Mint, and forest," he says, the accent gone.

"And this smells good to you?" I ask, trying to imagine the combination of scents. He nods in concurrence.

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most mouthwatering, what would you rate me?"

"Fifteen," he says as we begin to slow down. I didn't realize that we were this close to my house. Surely enough, he turns down my now visible driveway. I blink, surprised at his answer.

He rockets down the driveway at forty-five miles per hour, so we're at my house in less than five minutes.

Once we've stopped, he walks around the front of the car and grabs my bag for me. Then he hands me my crutches, and we slowly make our way to the porch. I make a move to grab the door knob, but stop abruptly for one final question.

"So," I say, frowning. "Now that I know what you are, do you have to leave?"

He frowns also.

"I don't know," he responds slowly. He pauses and looks at my face like he's trying to memorize every detail. "If you don't tell anybody then I'll stick around."

I nod.

"Deal." Then I enter my house, my mystery solved.


	10. Escort

**A/N So, to make a long story short school was hectic up until summer break, and summer break was hectic up until the end of June. I started writing at the end of June, but then got massive writer's block. Consequently, I had to write through writer's block to get this chapter out. It took a lot longer than normal. Also, I feel like my writing is slightly off this chapter so I apologize if the chapter is terrible. Thank you to Dalonega Noquisi for the amazing review for chapter nine. I hope you are still reading this. Thank you to FleurSuoh, crazybread, and Regin for reviewing and telling me to continue writing. I'm glad you all like this story. The last of my gratitude goes to Blood-Gaara-Blood for reviewing nearly six months after the last chapter was published. Your review let me know that I still had people interested in this story. Again, a big thank you to all of you guys for reviewing, because without you all I wouldn't know whether or not to continue. Please continue reviewing and I will keep writing! Enjoy the chapter!**

I wake up the next morning and review the facts of what I think was the previous day. I can't be sure if it was real or not with how outlandish it sounds. Jasper is a vampire. Dear Lord I think my mother's insanity is contagious.

I prepare for school as quickly as possible even though I know that it won't get me there any faster. As I brush my teeth with spearmint toothpaste I am reminded that I smell like mint and forest. I sniff myself to test what he says, but all I detect is my orange scented shampoo.

When I arrive downstairs Mom is waiting with pop tarts and tall glasses of milk. Evidently she does not feel like putting much effort into cooking this morning; instead her attention has been diverted to analyzing my mood.

"Well," she observes me as I munch on a pop tart, "You look happy this morning."

"Do I?" I ask. I really have not paid heed to my actions for the past forty-five minutes. My mind has been more focused on getting to school and talking to Jasper.

"Yes, honey," she replies. "Your cheeks are flushed and you are wearing your favorite t-shirt."

I glance down and notice that I am indeed wearing my favorite soccer shirt with a pair of dark gray sweatpants. It must have been at the top of my clothing box.

"Any reason you are excited, sweetheart?" she asks when I do not continue the conversation.

"None particularly," I lie. "And don't call me sweetheart."

"Hmm…" she muses as Mark appears and sits down at the table Dad and I brought back from our trip to Seattle. "So this has nothing to do with the fact that you will be getting your knee brace off tomorrow?"

"Nope."

I have actually totally forgotten that my knee brace and crutches will be gone tomorrow afternoon. This causes me to smile tightly and shake my head. I will be able to walk normally tomorrow and I'm more focused on a being who is supposed to be mythical. I am an idiot.

"Lizzie's got a boyfriend!" Mark crows. I roll my eyes. I'm pretty that is his response to almost everything now.

"You know little brother," I say, "I can still have one of those monsters sneak into your room and eat you—" I pause as I realize how ironic this is given my current situation, "just because I haven't told you about them in a few weeks doesn't mean they have disappeared."

Mark eyes me suspiciously and returns to his pop tart.

"Do you have a boyfriend Lizzie? Because you know—" Mom intones curiously. She thinks I should be cautious when dating, but unlike my father, she would love to see me with a dashing young knight in a suit of armor. She believes I could use the support in my ever hectic life.

"No," I cut her off, "but I think we should put a ban on that word in this household. It has been thrown around more frequently than I would like in the past couple of weeks. We should probably get going," I add, eager to escape this conversation and get to school.

"Well sweetie if you want to talk…" Mom suggestively trails off.

"No, Mom," I growl, "I do not want to talk I want to go to school. And if you call me sweetie one more time…"

"Monsters?" Mark questions innocently as I let Mom imagine the implications.

"Yes, Mark," I affirm as I begin crutching towards the main entry. "Monsters."

* * *

><p>As we drive into the school parking I zone in on the Cullens and the Hales. The Audi and the Volvo are parked in their usual spots right next to each other. What is unusual is that the family is not in a tight knit circle talking amongst themselves, but instead they look like they are facing off. Alice, Edward, and Jasper are all resting their back s against the Audi while Rosalie, Emmett, and Rixon are reclining against the Volvo. I can see Rosalie's angry expression as she directs words at the other group while Emmett holds her shoulders. Rixon glares at Alice and she stubbornly glares back at him. Jasper and Edward both look on impassively as they listen to Rosalie's speech.<p>

I don't know for sure what they are arguing about, but I can guess, and if that guess is correct, I'm not sure I want to leave the safety of the car. Rosalie has that I want to rip your head off look about her again.

Then, almost as if choreographed, they all look towards Bella's noisy red truck as it enters the parking lot. This confirms my assumption, and Rosalie glares nastily at Edward before yanking away from Emmett and walking off.

My mother finally pulls to a stop near the sidewalk and I clumsily navigate my way to the back seat where my backpack and crutches are waiting. Once the crutches are securely under my arms I begin my tedious journey to first hour. If I could walk, it would take me five minutes to get to class. As it is however, ten minutes is about average. I am really glad I will be getting rid of my crutches tomorrow.

My mother has barely left the parking lot and I haven't even managed to reach my normal pace when Jasper appears at my side. His eyes are golden today, and his expression is guarded and tense. This of course, doesn't keep him from looking like a supermodel and temporarily taking my breath away. I suppress a sigh. Of all the people I could have investigated, it had to be him.

"Good morning," he says quietly. I smile slightly at how weird this is. Other students are already staring at us, wondering how managed to interest Jasper Hale. They are also giving us a privacy bubble of about ten feet.

"Good morning," I reply just as quietly, figuring the conversation will stop there for several reasons. One, that this is so new to both of us, interacting on a personal level with either someone that smells edible or someone that shouldn't even logically exist. The other is that he doesn't have to breathe as often when he stops talking, which removes the temptation to rip my throat out.

"How are you today?" he continues, not even allowing for a pause after my greeting. I notice the southern undertone again and realize that it is always there. I just don't pay enough attention to notice it when he isn't irritated.

"I'm fine, considering my mystery man turned out to be a vampire. How about you?"

"I've been better. Normally, I don't have to concentrate so much on not attacking humans," he sighs, "But I am under the impression that I will have to get used to it. At least, as long as _you _still want me around."

"You can always leave if you want to. I mean, if it bothers you too much…"" I say unwillingly as heat rises in my face. It is almost embarrassing how much he esteems my opinion. He has lived nearly one-hundred and fifty years and knows probably more than all the teachers at an Ivy League school combined and yet he still isn't leaving because of me. It's utterly ridiculous, but if he did otherwise I would be crushed when he left. Oh the irony.

"Thank you, but no," he replies. "There's a part me that wants to stay with you as well. Anyways, I have a bet with Edward that I would prefer to win."

"A bet?" I ask, intrigued. "What do vampires bet about?"

He shrugs. "We bet a lot. Remember about two weeks after you arrived there was a slush fight in the school parking lot?"

I nod, remembering not the parking lot fight but when Jace almost nailed Jazz in the head during lunch.

"Rixon, Emmett, and I had a bet to see who could be the first person to hit Edward with a slush ball.

"Poor Edward," I chuckle as I picture all three of them gaining up on Edward with their super speed. It probably sucked to be him that day.

"I wouldn't be so sure Liz," he asserts, "Edward has a pretty unfair advantage."

"Does he now?" I query. "And what would that be?"

"We'll save that topic for another time," he suggests, "It would take a lengthy amount of time for me to explain it."

"Okay," I respond, "How about lunch?" The words slip out of my mouth before I realize that there's no guarantee we'll be eating together. He'll doubtlessly want to sit with his siblings.

The edges of his lips turn upward in amusement. "Lunch sounds good. Do you want me to meet you at the end of fifth hour?"

"Um, sure," I agree after a moment, nonplussed by how willing he is to do everything with me now. It takes me another second to clear my thoughts. "So, what is your current gamble with Edward about?"

He purses his lips ruefully. "I shouldn't have mentioned that earlier. I was hoping you would forget."

"I told you I have a good memory," I tease.

He pauses contemplatively, and strokes his chin once before exhaling.

"This particular bet is about which one of us snaps first."

"Snaps?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Basically, can I safely stay longer with you, or can he with Bella."

"Oh," I say, momentarily confused before, "OH, you mean…" I keep forgetting how possible it is that this boy could kill me. It's just so easy to be myself around him.

He nods somberly and reaches past me to open the door to the classroom.

* * *

><p>I am ambushed by Jessica in Trig.<p>

"Why were you walking with Jasper Hale this morning?" she demands excitedly as soon as I sit down. She bounces up and down in her seat, making her curls look incredibly springy.

I look at her like she nuts. "Because we are friends?"

"Mhmm," she smiles like a know-it-all, and I can tell I'm going to have a hard time tolerating her this class period. "And how long have you been 'friends'?"

"Awhile."

"And how long is awhile?"

"I don't know, that's why I made a general statement."

Bella walks in and sits on Jessica's right side. Her eyes are full of questions as soon as she glances at me. Obviously she saw me with Jasper this morning.

"Hey Bella," I chime, attempting to avert any further conversation about Jazz.

Jessica glances over her shoulder and offers a quick, "Hi, Bella," before returning to me.

"So are you literally just friends or was that another general statement?"

"We're just friends Jess," I hiss, "It isn't a big deal."

"Riiiiighhtt," Jess winks suggestively, and I roll my eyes in annoyance. "You know, you should bring him to La Push with us on Saturday."

"We're going to La Push Saturday?" Bella asks, taking my words before they exit my mouth.

"Yeah, you haven't heard?" Jess asks like it should be everybody's business.

"No," Bella and I respond simultaneously.

"Oh, well we are going to La Push Saturday. The weather is supposed to be nice this weekend and we figured it would be alright with you since you are getting your knee brace off tomorrow. Can you guys make it?"

"I guess," I shrug my shoulders. I don't know if I'll be able to surf, but at least I could walk up and down the beach.

"Sure," Bella replies. "Where are we going to meet?"

"At Mike's dad's store at about ten. We are carpooling so…"

"Okay that's fine," I smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've been having issues with the problem Mr. Varner is about to show us." I motion towards our teacher who is glaring at our group in the back corner. Evidently we didn't hear the bell ring.

"Ladies…?"

"Yes Mr. Varner?" Jessica pipes.

"Pay attention, or else you're all going to get detentions for a week." Ouch, harsh.

"Yes, Mr. Varner."

* * *

><p>"So if you take the present tense tu form—" I explain to Jess as we exit the Spanish room.<p>

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. If only—" Jess scarcely begins her second sentence before her jaw hits the floor. "Is that…?"

"Hi Jazz," I greet the tall honey blond model waiting outside the Spanish room. "See you later Jess." I throw over my shoulder to my dumbfounded friend as Jazz and I begin walking to the cafeteria.

"You know," I mutter as the sea of students in front of us parts, "you didn't have to come to the Spanish classroom and escort me to lunch. Jess is probably going to write down in her diary about how she was a mere five feet away from you."

He rolls his eyes at my jibe. He probably could care less what Jessica thinks.

"Before I was a vampire," he smiles wryly, "150 years ago, the polite thing to do was to see a lady safely to and from her destination."

"Before you were a vampire you probably never knew a lady like me," I return.

"True," he agrees. He ponders a moment, and then chuckles, shaking his head. "You would have been quite an oddity in Houston."

"Houston?"

"My home town."

"Oh," I say, and then out of earnest curiosity ask, "What was Houston like, back then?"

He shrugs. "Like every other town in Texas I suppose. Most of the towns were still rather small compared to their eastern counterparts, but they were slowly growing. I lived on a plantation with my father, mother, and two younger sisters. Life was good, but I always wanted more excitement. That's why I enlisted as soon as the Civil War started."

"So you didn't care about any of the politics behind it?"

"There was a certain amount of pride in my home state behind it at the time, but I could have cared less about what actually divided the North and South. It didn't concern me that Abraham Lincoln had been elected president and that he was going to free all the slaves. All that I wanted was to be a military man and reap the benefits of a successful career. Of course, all I had heard was glorified stories of men in battle, winning the hearts of women and the praise of the public. I had no idea what war was really like." There is a hint of regret in his voice as he finishes.

"Would you do it differently if you could do it again?" I question.

"Only one part," he responds, "And if I redid that I wouldn't be here today."

"So you…" I try to think of how to phrase it correctly, "were 'changed' while you were a soldier?"

He nods in affirmation and I decide now is not the time to pry any further. I'm more than likely still too much of an outsider for him to tell me anyway, so I change the subject.

"So are you going to tell me about Edward's unfair advantage or not?" I ask, raising my eyebrows in a challenge. He smiles briefly at my attitude.

"You sit down here," he gestures to the table we have just arrived at, "I'll go get lunch."

* * *

><p>While I wait for Jasper to return with our meal Edward sits down, all by his lonesome, at the table adjacent to ours. He glances at me and I smile tentatively, giving him and awkward wave because I am unsure what to do. He reciprocates with a tight-lipped smile and a nod before waving at my customary lunch room table. I turn to see that he has gotten Bella's attention. He motions with his index finger that she should join him. Surprise colors her expression as well as my own.<p>

"Does she know?" I mouth to Edward. I get a slight shake of his head in response.

Bella strides over to his table so quickly she trips over her own two feet. Fortunately, she manages to recover by grabbing the end of the table before she hits the floor. She quickly rights herself and as she approaches I can see her face is flushed. I silently muse to myself that that is probably not this best thing to do when approaching a vampire.

As Bella slides into the seat across from Edward Jasper returns with a lunch tray filled with enough food for two people.

"Half for you, half for me," he says quietly as he analyzes my doubtful expression. "I at least have to pretend I'm human."

"Normal humans don't throw perfectly good food away without taking a bite," I remark as I sink my teeth into an apple. "So tell me, what is this strange and wonderful power that makes it alright to snipe Edward with slush balls?"

Jazz looks over his shoulder at his adopted brother before saying in a matter-of-fact tone, "He can read minds."

"You're joking," I say, stunned.

"I wish," Jazz responds, "It would be a lot easier to win bets with Emmett and Rixon."

I peer over at Edward for the minutest of seconds, and although he is talking to Bella his gaze meets mine for that fraction of a second. Bella starts to turn and see what he is staring at, so I revert to conversing Jazz.

"That's cheating," I mutter, taking a sip from my water bottle. Now I feel like an idiot for mouthing words to him earlier when he could've just read my mind.

He grins stunningly in agreement before continuing. "If you think Edward cheats then I probably shouldn't discuss what Alice can do."

"Oh, really," I challenge playfully, "Well if you won't tell me, I'll walk—I mean crutch—over there and ask her myself."

"That wouldn't disturb Alice, but do you really want to put yourself that close to Rosalie?" he questions innocently.

"Probably not," I admit, readjusting myself in my seat. "So what can Alice do?"

"Alice can see the future based on the decisions people have made or will make."

I think I'm getting used to all this strangeness, because I take this a lot better than his first revelation.

"That's cheating more than Edward."

"You should see them playing chess. They play the entire game in their minds and know who is going to lose before they even finish."

"Sounds interesting," I remark. "So can anyone else in your family do something out-of-the-ordinary for vampires?"

"Yes," he responds nonchalantly.

"Who?" I run through the list of who is left. Rosalie, Emmett, Rixon, Dr. Cullen and Mrs. Cullen. As long as Rosalie doesn't have a power that would allow her to kill me without anybody knowing, I think I can handle whatever he tells me.

He points at himself.

"You?" I raise my eyebrows skeptically. I haven't noticed anything unusual while being with Jasper. I mean sure, I'm more comfortable around him than most people but…

He nods and I tilt my head as if looking at him from a different angle will help.

"Don't tell me you can read minds too." That would be utterly humiliating.

"No," he pauses as he organizes his explanation. "I can read, and manipulate, people's emotions."

My jaw drops. That's why he understands me so well.

"Now that's unfair," I recover myself, "That should've been the first thing you told me after I found out what you are. Is that why I'm so comfortable around you?"

"No," his simple response makes the blood rush to my cheeks. The table creaks as he leans away from me ever so slightly.

"Sorry," I mutter sullenly, leaning away as well. However, I'm not as repentant as I am embarrassed. I begin to trace the lines of the linoleum floor with my eyes.

Something cold touches my hand. I glance up at the table to see what it is and I find his hand on top of mine. I blush even more deeply and attempt to pull my hand away. He gently holds it in place and my embarrassment begins to fade. I force myself to look at his face. He stares back with a look of genuine interest and concern. I expect another burst of heat in my cheeks, but my prediction is incorrect.

Eventually he lets me pull away.

"Sorry," I repeat myself as I rub the hand he just touched, "It's too easy for me to be myself around you."

"Evidently the feeling is mutual," he replies in a voice that sends shivers down my spine. Again, I don't blush when I should.

"I take it that you're the reason I'm so calm now," I comment.

He shrugs and nods as if it's no big deal. I allow a small smile to ebb onto my face and decide that I want to ask one more question before the period ends.

"So why do you, Edward, and Alice have extra abilities?"

"We think," he says slowly, "That becoming a vampire amplifies abilities from your previous life. For instance, when I was human, I was incredibly charismatic. Everyone at home liked me, and my charisma allowed me to fly through the ranks in the army. I ascended through the ranks above older men to become the youngest major in Texas."

"I see. We should start heading to Psych," I tell him as I reach for my crutches. He wordlessly agrees grabbing the lunch tray and disposing of the uneaten food. Then he comes back to escort me to my destination.


End file.
